SQUIRRELS 

AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 
cJOHN  BURROUGHS 

SCHOOL  EDITION 


HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO, 

BOSTON    •    NEW  YORK    -CHICAGO 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Boston  Library  Consortium  IVIember  Libraries 


http://www.archive.org/details/squirrelsotherfuburr 


RED  FOX.      (Page  53) 


SQUIREELS 

AND 

OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 


BY 

JOHN  BURROUGHS 

WITH  FIFTEEN  ILLUSTRATIONS  IN 

COLORS  AFTER  AUDUBON,  AND 

A  FRONTISPIECE  FROM  LIFE 


u 


f';s^?3^ 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

(Ctje  jaitierjjitie  |&re#,  <!ramtirid0e 

1901 


BOSTOX  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
CHESTMUT  HILL,  MASS, 


COPYKIGHT,  1900,  BY  JOHN  BURKOUGHS 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


57718 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 


PAGE 


I.  Squirrels 1 

II.   The  Chipmunk   .        .        .        •        .        •        •        .  15 

III.  The  Woodchuck 32 

IV.  The  Rabbit  and  the  Hare 38 

V.  The  Muskrat 43 

VI.  The  Skunk 48 

VII.  The  Fox 53 

VIII.  Tnfi  Weasel ^2 

IX.  The  Mink •        .        .  90 

X.  The  Raccoon 94 

XI.  The  Porcupine 98 

XII.  The  Opossum 106 

XIII.  Wild  Mice Ill 

XIV.  Glimpses  of  Wild  Life 125 

XV.  A  Life  of  Fear     .        .        .        .        .        •        •        .135 

Index 145 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Red  Fox  (page  53)  (From  a  photograph  by  Wm.  Lyman  Under- 
wood, Belmont,  Mass.)  ....       Frontispiece 

Flying  Squirrel 4 

Gray  Squirrel 8 

Chipmunk ,  18 

woodchuck 34 

Gray  Rabbit 40 

MUSKRAT 46 

Skunk      . 50 

Weasel 74 

Mink 90 

Raccoon 96 

Porcupine 102 

Opossum 108 

White-Footed  Mouse 112 

Jumping  Mouse 120 

Red  Squirrel 136 


SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER 
FUR-BEARERS 


SQUIRRELS 


Walking  tlirougli  the  early  October  woods 
one  day,  I  came  upon  a  place  where  the  ground 
was  thickly  strewn  with  very  large  unopened 
chestnut  burrs.  On  examination  I  found  that 
every  burr  had  been  cut  square  off  with  about 
an  inch  of  the  stem  adhering,  and  not  one  had 
been  left  on  the  tree.  It  was  not  accident, 
then,  but  design.  Whose  design  ?  A  squirrel's. 
The  fruit  was  the  finest  I  had  ever  seen  in  the 
woods,  and  some  wise  squirrel  had  marked  it  for 
his  own.  The  burrs  were  ripe,  and  had  just 
begun  to  divide.  The  squirrel  that  had  taken 
all  this  pains  had  evidently  reasoned  with  himself 
thus  :  ''  Now,  these  are  extremely  fine  chestnuts, 
and  I  want  them ;  if  I  wait  till  the  burrs  open 
on  the  tree,  the  crows  and  jays  will  be  sure  to 
carry  off  a  great  many  of  the  nuts  before  they 


2         SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

fall;  then,  after  the  wind  has  rattled  out  what 
remain,  there  are  the  mice,  the  chipmunks,  the 
red  squirrels,  the  raccoons,  the  grouse,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  boys  and  the  pigs,  to  come  in  for 
their  share ;  so  I  will  forestall  events  a  little :  I 
will  cut  off  the  burrs  when  they  have  matured, 
and  a  few  days  of  this  dry  October  weather  will 
cause  every  one  of  them  to  open  on  the  ground ; 
I  shall  be  on  hand  in  the  nick  of  time  to  gather 
up  my  nuts."  The  squirrel,  of  course,  had  to 
take  the  chances  of  a  prowler  like  myself  coming 
along,  but  he  had  fairly  stolen  a  march  on  his 
neighbors.  As  I  proceeded  to  collect  and  open 
the  burrs,  I  was  half  prepared  to  hear  an  audible 
protest  from  the  trees  about,  for  I  constantly 
fancied  myself  watched  by  shy  but  jealous  eyes. 
It  is  an  interesting  inquiry  how  the  squirrel  knew 
the  burrs  would  open  if  left  to  lie  on  the  ground 
a  few  days.  Perhaps  he  did  not  know,  but 
thought  the  experiment  worth  trying. 

One  reason,  doubtless,  w^hy  squirrels  are  so 
bold  and  reckless  in  leaping  through  the  trees  is 
that,  if  they  miss  their  hold  and  fall,  they  sustain 
no  injury.  Every  species  of  tree-squirrel  seems 
to  be  capable  of  a  sort  of  rudimentary  flying, — 
at  least  of  making  itself  into  a  parachute,  so  as 
to  ease  or  break  a  fall  or  a  leap  from  a  great  height. 


SQUIRRELS  3 

The  so-called  flying  squirrel  does  this  the  most 
perfectly.  It  opens  its  furry  vestments,  leaps 
into  the  air,  and  sails  down  the  steep  incline  from 
the  top  of  one  tree  to  the  foot  of  the  next  as 
lightly  as  a  bird.  But  other  squirrels  know  the 
same  trick,  only  their  coat-skirts  are  not  so  broad. 
One  day  my  dog  treed  a  red  squirrel  in  a  tall 
hickory  that  stood  in  a  meadow  on  the  side  of  a 
steep  hill.  To  see  what  the  squirrel  would  do 
when  closely  pressed,  I  climbed  the  tree.  As  I 
drew  near  he  took  refuge  in  the  topmost  branch, 
and  then,  as  I  came  on,  he  boldly  leaped  into  the 
air,  spread  himself  out  upon  it,  and,  with  a  quick, 
tremulous  motion  of  his  tail  and  legs,  descended 
quite  slowly  and  landed  upon  the  ground  thirty 
feet  below  me,  apparently  none  the  worse  for  the 
leap,  for  he  ran  with  great  speed  and  eluding  the 
dog  took  refuge  in  another  tree. 

A  recent  American  traveler  in  Mexico  gives  a 
still  more  striking  instance  of  this  power  of  squir- 
rels partially  to  neutralize  the  force  of  gravity 
when  leaping  or  falling  through  the  air.  Some 
boys  had  caught  a  Mexican  black  squirrel,  nearly 
as  large  as  a  cat.  It  had  escaped  from  them  once, 
and,  when  pursued,  had  taken  a  leap  of  sixty  feet, 
from  the  top  of  a  pine-tree  down  upon  the  roof 
of  a  house,  without  injury.  This  feat  had  led 
the  grandmother  of  one  of  the  boys  to  declare 


4         SQUIRKELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

that  the  squirrel  was  bewitched,  and  the  boys 
proposed  to  put  the  matter  to  further  test  by 
throwing  the  squirrel  down  a  precipice  six  hun- 
dred feet  high.  Our  traveler  interfered,  to  see 
that  the  squirrel  had  fair  play.  The  prisoner 
was  conveyed  in  a  pillow-slip  to  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  and  the  slip  opened,  so  that  he  might  have 
his  choice,  whether  to  remain  a  captive  or  to  take 
the  leap.  He  looked  down  the  awful  abyss,  and 
then  back  and  sidewise,  —  his  eyes  glistening, 
his  form  crouching.  Seeing  no  escape  in  any 
other  direction,  "  he  took  a  flying  leap  into  space, 
and  fluttered  rather  than  fell  into  the  abyss  below. 
His  legs  began  to  work  like  those  of  a  swimming 
poodle-dog,  but  quicker  and  quicker,  while  his 
tail,  slightly  elevated,  spread  out  like  a  feather 
fan.  A  rabbit  of  the  same  weight  would  have 
made  the  trip  in  about  twelve  seconds ;  the  squir- 
rel protracted  it  for  more  than  half  a  minute," 
and  "  landed  on  a  ledge  of  limestone,  where  we 
could  see  him  plainly  squat  on  his  hind  legs  and 
smooth  his  ruffled  fur,  after  which  he  made  for 
the  creek  with  a  flourish  of  his  tail,  took  a  good 
drink,  and  scampered  away  into  the  willow 
thicket." 

The  story  at  first  blush  seems  incredible,  but 
I  have  no  doubt  our  red  squirrel  would  have 
made  the  leap  safely;  then  why  not  the  great 


PLYING   SQUIRREL 


SQUIRRELS  5 

black  squirrel,  since  its  parachute  would  be  pro- 
portionately large  ? 

The  tails  of  the  squirrels  are  broad  and  long 
and  flat,  not  short  and  small  like  those  of  go- 
phers, chi]3munks,  woodchucks,  and  other  ground 
rodents,  and  when  they  leap  or  fall  through  the 
air  the  tail  is  arched  and  rapidly  vibrates.  A 
squirrel's  tail,  therefore,  is  something  more  than 
ornament,  something  more  than  a  flag;  it  not 
only  aids  him  in  flying,  but  it  serves  as  a  cloak, 
which  he  wraps  about  him  when  he  sleeps. 

In  making  the  flying  leap  I  have  described 
the  animals'  legs  are  widely  extended,  their  bodies 
broadened  and  flattened,  the  tail  stiffened  and 
slightly  curved,  and  a  curious  tremulous  motion 
runs  through  all.  It  is  very  obvious  that  a  delib- 
erate attempt  is  made  to  present  the  broadest  sur- 
face possible  to  the  air,  and  I  think  a  red  squirrel 
might  leap  from  almost  any  height  to  the  ground 
without  serious  injury.  Our  flying  squirrel  is 
in  no  proper  sense  a  flyer.  On  the  ground  he 
is  more  helpless  than  a  chipmunk,  because  less 
agile.  He  can  only  sail  or  slide  down  a  steep 
incline  from  the  top  of  one  tree  to  the  foot  of 
another.  The  flying  squirrel  is  active  only  at 
night;  hence  its  large,  soft  eyes,  its  soft  fur,  and 
its  gentle,  shrinking  ways.  It  is  the  gentlest 
and  most  harmless  of  our  rodents.     A  pair  o£ 


6         SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

thein  for  two  or  three  successive  years  had  their 
nest  behind  the  blinds  of  an  upper  window  of  a 
large,  unoccupied  country-house  near  me.  You 
could  stand  in  the  room  inside  and  observe  the 
happy  family  through  the  window  pane  against 
which  their  nest  pressed.  There  on  the  window 
sill  lay  a  pile  of  large,  shining  chestnuts,  which 
they  were  evidently  holding  against  a  time  of 
scarcity,  as  the  pile  did  not  diminish  while  I  ob- 
served them.  The  nest  was  composed  of  cotton 
and  wool  which  they  filched  from  a  bed  in  one  of 
the  chambers,  and  it  was  always  a  mystery  how 
they  got  into  the  room  to  obtain  it.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  other  avenue  but  the  chimney  flue. 

Red  and  gray  squirrels  are  more  or  less  active 
all  winter,  though  very  shy,  and,  I  am  inclined 
to  think,  partially  nocturnal  in  their  habits.  Here 
a  gray  one  has  just  passed,  —  came  down  that 
tree  and  went  up  this ;  there  he  dug  for  a  beech- 
nut, and  left  the  burr  on  the  snow.  How  did 
he  know  where  to  dig  ?  During  an  unusually 
severe  winter  I  have  known  him  to  make  long 
journeys  to  a  barn,  in  a  remote  field,  where 
wheat  was  stored.  How  did  he  know  there  was 
wheat  there  ?  In  attempting  to  return,  the  ad- 
venturous creature  was  frequently  run  down  and 
caught  in  the  deep  snow. 


SQUIRRELS  7 

His  home  is  in  the  trunk  of  some  old  birch  or 
maple,  with  an  entrance  far  up  amid  the  branches. 
In  the  spring  he  builds  himself  a  summer-house 
of  small  leafy  twigs  in^the  top  of  a  neighbor- 
ing beech  J  where  the  young  are  reared  and  much 
of  the  time  passed.  But  the  safer  retreat  in  the 
maple  is  not  abandoned,  and  both  old  and  young 
resort  thither  in  the  fall,  or  when  danger  threat- 
ens. Whether  this  temporary  residence  amid 
the  branches  is  for  elegance  or  pleasure,  or  for 
sanitary  reasons  or  domestic  convenience,  the 
naturalist  has  forgotten  to  mention. 

The  elegant  creature,  so  cleanly  in  its  habits, 
so  graceful  in  its  carriage,  so  nimble  and  daring 
in  its  movements,  excites  feelings  of  admiration 
akin  to  those  awakened  by  the  birds  and  the 
fairer  forms  of  nature.  His  passage  through  the 
trees  is  almost  a  flight.  Indeed,  the  flying  squir- 
rel has  little  or  no  advantage  over  him,  and  in 
speed  and  nimbleness  cannot  compare  with  him 
at  all.  If  he  miss  his  footing  and  fall,  he  is  sure 
to  catch  on  the  next  branch  ;  if  the  connection 
be  broken,  he  leaps  recklessly  for  the  nearest 
spray  or  limb,  and  secures  his  hold,  even  if  it  be 
by  the  aid  of  his  teeth. 

His  career  of  frolic  and  festivity  begins  in  the 
fall,  after  the  birds  have  left  us  and  the  holi- 
day spirit  of  nature  has  commenced  to  subside 


8         SQUIRKELS  AN'D  OTHER  FUR-BEAEERS 

How  much  his  presence  adds  to  the  pleasure  of 
a  saunter  in  the  still  October  woods.  You  step 
lightly  across  the  threshold  of  the  forest,  and 
sit  down  upon  the  first  log  or  rock  to  await  the 
signals.  It  is  so  still  that  the  ear  suddenly  seems 
to  have  acquired  new  powers,  and  there  is  no 
movement  to  confuse  the  eye.  Presently  you 
hear  the  rustling  of  a  branch,  and  see  it  sway  or 
spring  as  the  squirrel  leaps  from  or  to  it;  or 
else  you  hear  a  disturbance  in  the  dry  leaves, 
and  mark  one  running  upon  the  ground.  He 
has  probably  seen  the  intruder,  and,  not  liking 
his  stealthy  movements,  desires  to  avoid  a  nearer 
acquaintance.  Now  he  mounts  a  stump  to  see 
if  the  way  is  clear,  then  pauses  a  moment  at  the 
foot  of  a  tree  to  take  his  bearings,  his  tail  as  he 
skims  along  undulating  behind  him,  and  adding 
to  the  easy  grace  and  dignity  of  his  movements. 
Or  else  you  are  first  advised  of  his  proximity  by 
the  dropping  of  a  false  nut,  or  the  fragments  of 
the  shucks  rattling  upon  the  leaves.  Or,  again, 
after  contemplating  you  a  while  unobserved,  and 
making  up  his  mind  that  you  are  not  dangerous, 
he  strikes  an  attitude  on  a  branch,  and  commences 
to  quack  and  bark,  with  an  accompanying  move- 
ment of  his  tail.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  when 
the  same  stillness  reigns,  the  same  scenes  are 
repeated.     There  is  a  black  variety,  quite  rare. 


GRAY   SQUIRREI^ 


SQUIRRELS  9 

but  mating  freely  with  the  gray,  from  which  it 
seems  to  be  distinguished  only  in  color. 

The  red  squirrel  is  more  common  and  less 
dignified  than  the  gray,  and  oftener  guilty  of 
petty  larceny  about  the  barns  and  grain-fields. 
He  is  most  abundant  in  mixed  oak,  chestnut,  and 
hemlock  woods,  from  which  he  makes  excursions 
to  the  fields  and  orchards,  spinning  along  the 
tops  of  the  fences,  which  afford  not  only  con- 
venient lines  of  communication,  but  a  safe  re- 
treat if  danger  threatens.  He  loves  to  linger 
about  the  orchard;  and,  sitting  upright  on  the 
topmost  stone  in  the  wall,  or  on  the  tallest  stake 
in  the  fence,  chipping  up  an  apple  for  the  seeds, 
his  tail  conforming  to  the  curve  of  his  back,  his 
paws  shifting  and  turning  the  apple,  he  is  a 
pretty  sight,  and  his  bright,  pert  appearance 
atones  for  all  the  mischief  he  does.  At  home, 
in  the  woods,  he  is  very  frolicsome  and  loqua- 
cious. The  appearance  of  anything  unusual,  if « 
after  contemplating  it  a  moment,  he  concludes  it 
not  dangerous,  excites  his  unbounded  mirth  and 
ridicule,  and  he  snickers  and  chatters,  hardly  able 
to  contain  himself ;  now  darting  up  the  trunk  of 
a  tree  and  squealing  in  derision,  then  .hopping 
into  position  on  a  limb  and  dancing  to  the  music 
of  his  own  cackle,  and  all  for  your  special  benefit. 


10       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

There  is  something  very  human  in  this  appar- 
ent mirth  and  mockery  of  the  squirrels.  It  seems 
to  be  a  sort  of  ironical  laughter,  and  implies  self- 
conscious  pride  and  exultation  in  the  laugher. 
"  What  a  ridiculous  thing  you  are,  to  be  sure  !  " 
he  seems  to  say  ;  "  how  clumsy  and  awkward, 
and  what  a  poor  show  for  a  tail !  Look  at  me, 
look  at  me  !  "  — and  he  capers  about  in  his  best 
style.  Again,  he  would  seem  to  tease  you  and 
provoke  your  attention  ;  then  suddenly  assumes 
a  tone  of  good-natured,  childlike  defiance  and 
derision.  That  pretty  little  imp,  the  chipmunk, 
will  sit  on  the  stone  above  his  den  and  defy  you, 
as  plainly  as  if  he  said  so,  to  catch  him  before 
he  can  get  into  his  hole  if  you  can. 

A  hard  winter  affects  the  chipmunks  very 
little  ;  they  are  snug  and  warm  in  their  burrows 
in  the  ground  and  under  the  rocks,  with  a  boun- 
tiful store  of  nuts  or  grain.  I  have  heard  of 
nearly  a  half-bushel  of  chestnuts  being  taken 
from  a  single  den.  They  usually  hole  up  in  No- 
vember, and  do  not  come  out  again  till  March  or 
April,  unless  the  winter  is  very  open  and  mild. 
Gray  squirrels,  when  they  have  been  partly  do- 
mesticated in  parks  and  groves  near  dwellings, 
are  said  to  hide  their  nuts  here  and  there  upon 
the  ground,  and  in  winter  to  dig  them  up  from 


SQUIRRELS  11 

beneath  the   snow,  always  hitting  the  spot  ac- 
curately. 

The  red  squirrel  lays  up  no  stores  like  the  pro- 
vident chipmunk,  but  scours  about  for  food  in 
all  weathers,  feeding  upon  the  seeds  in  the  cones 
of  the  hemlock  that  still  cling  to  the  tree,  upon 
sumac-bobs,  and  the  seeds  of  frozen  apples.  I 
have  seen  the  ground  under  a  wild  apple-tree 
that  stood  near  the  woods  completely  covered 
with  the  "  chonkings ' '  of  the  frozen  apples,  the 
work  of  the  squirrels  in  getting  at  the  seeds ;  not 
an  apple  had  been  left,  and  apparently  not  a 
seed  had  been  lost.  But  the  squirrels  in  this 
particular  locality  evidently  got  pretty  hard  up 
before  spring,  for  they  developed  a  new  source 
of  food-supply.  A  young  bushy-topped  sugar- 
maple,  about  forty  feet  high,  standing  beside  a 
stone  fence  near  the  woods,  was  attacked,  and 
more  than  half  denuded  of  its  bark.  The  ob- 
ject of  the  squirrels  seemed  to  be  to  get  at  the 
soft,  white,  mucilaginous  substance  (cambium 
layer)  between  the  bark  and  the  wood.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  fragments  of  the  bark, 
and  the  white,  naked  stems  and  branches  had 
been  scraped  by  fine  teeth.  When  the  sap  starts 
in  the  early  spring,  the  squirrels  add  this  to  their 
scanty  supplies.  They  perforate  the  bark  of  the 
branches   of   the   maples   with   their  chisel-like 


12       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

teeth,  and  suck  the  sweet  liquid  as  it  slowly 
oozes  out.  It  is  not  much  as  f  ofod,  but  evidently 
it  helps. 

I  have  said  the  red  squirrel  does  not  lay  by  a 
store  of  food  for  winter  use,  like  the  chipmunk 
and  the  wood-mice ;  yet  in  the  fall  he  sometimes 
hoards  in  a  tentative,  temporary  kind  of  way.  I 
have  seen  his  savings  —  butternuts  and  black 
walnuts  —  stuck  here  and  there  in  saplings  and 
trees  near  his  nest ;  sometimes  carefully  inserted 
in  the  upright  fork  of  a  limb  or  twig.  One  day, 
late  in  November,  I  counted  a  dozen  or  more 
black  walnuts  put  away  in  this  manner  in  a 
little  grove  of  locusts,  chestnuts,  and  maples  by 
the  roadside,  and  could  but  smile  at  the  wise 
forethought  of  the  rascally  squirrel.  His  sup- 
plies were  probably  safer  that  way  than  if  more 
elaborately  hidden.  They  were  well  distributed ; 
his  eggs  were  not  all  in  one  basket,  and  he  could 
go  away  from  home  without  any  fear  that  his 
storehouse  would  be  broken  into  in  his  absence. 
The  next  week,  when  I  passed  that  way,  the 
nuts  were  all  gone  but  two.  I  saw  the  squirrel 
that  doubtless  laid  claim  to  them,  on  each  oc- 
casion. 

There  is  one  thing  the  red  squirrel  knows  un- 
erringly that  I  do  not  (there  are  probably  several 
other  things) ,  that  is,  on  which  side  of  the  but- 


SQUIRRELS  13 

ternut  the  meat  lies.  He  always  gnaws  through 
the  shell  so  as  to  strike  the  kernel  broadside,  and 
thus  easily  extract  it ;  while  to  my  eyes  there  is 
no  external  mark  or  indication,  in  the  form  or 
appearance  o£  the  nut,  as  there  is  in  the  hickory- 
nut,  by  which  I  can  tell  whether  the  edge  or  the 
side  of  the  meat  is  toward  me.  But  examine  any 
number  of  nuts  that  the  squirrels  have  rifled, 
and,  as  a  rule,  you  will  find  they  always  drill 
through  the  shell  at  the  one  spot  where  the  meat 
will  be  most  exposed.  Occasionally  one  makes 
a  mistake,  but  not  often.  It  stands  them  in 
hand  to  know,  and  they  do  know.  Doubtless, 
if  butternuts  were  a  main  source  of  my  food, 
and  I  were  compelled  to  gnaw  into  them,  I 
should  learn,  too,  on  which  side  my  bread  was 
buttered. 

The  cheeks  of  the  red  and  gray  squirrels  are 
made  without  pockets,  and  whatever  they  trans- 
port is  carried  in  the  teeth.  They  are  more  or 
less  active  all  winter,  but  October  and  November 
are  their  festal  months.  Invade  some  butter- 
nut or  hickory  grove  on  a  frosty  October  morn- 
ing, and  hear  the  red  squirrel  beat  the  "  juba  " 
on  a  horizontal  branch.  It  is  a  most  lively  jig, 
what  the  boys  call  a  "  regular  break-down,"  in- 
terspersed with  squeals  and  snickers  and  derisive 
laughter.    The  most  noticeable  peculiarity  about 


14       SQUIREELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

the  vocal  part  of  it  is  the  fact  that  it  is  a  kind 
of  duet.  In  other  words,  by  some  ventriloquial 
tricks,  he  appears  to  accompany  himself,  as  if  his 
voice  split  up,  a  part  forming  a  low  guttural 
sound,  and  a  part  a  shrill  nasal  sound. 


II 

THE    CHIPMUNK 

The  first  chipmunk  in  March  is  as  sure  a 
token  of  the  spring  as  the  first  bluebird  or  the 
first  robin,  and  is  quite  as  welcome.  Some 
genial  influence  has  found  him  out  there  in  his 
burrow,  deep  under  the  ground,  and  waked  him 
up,  and  enticed  him  forth  into  the  light  of  day. 
The  red  squirrel  has  been  more  or  less  active  all 
winter  ;  his  track  has  dotted  the  surface  of  every 
new-fallen  snow  throughout  the  season.  But  the 
chipmunk  retired  from  view  early  in  December, 
and  has  passed  the  rigorous  months  in  his  nest, 
beside  his  hoard  of  nuts,  some  feet  underground, 
and  hence,  when  he  emerges  in  March,  and  is 
seen  upon  his  little  journeys  along  the  fences,  or 
perched  upon  a  log  or  rock  near  his  hole  in  the 
woods,  it  is  another  sign  that  spring  is  at  hand. 
His  store  of  nuts  may  or  may  not  be  all  con- 
sumed ;  it  is  certain  that  he  is  no  sluggard,  to 
sleep  away  these  first  bright  warm  days. 

Before  the  first  crocus  is  out  of  the  ground, 
you  may  look  for  the  first  chipmunk.     When 


16       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

I  hear  the  little  downy  woodpecker  begin  his 
spring  drumming,  then  I  know  the  chipmunk 
is  due.  He  cannot  sleep  after  that  challenge  of 
the  woodpecker  reaches  his  ear. 

Apparently  the  first  thing  he  does  on  coming 
forth,  as  soon  as  he  is  sure  of  himself,  is  to  go 
courting.  So  far  as  I  have  observed,  the  love- 
making  of  the  chipmunk  occurs  in  March.  A 
single  female  will  attract  all  the  males  in  the 
vicinity.  One  early  March  day  I  was  at  work 
for  several  hours  near  a  stone  fence,  where  a 
female  had  apparently  taken  up  her  quarters. 
What  a  train  of  suitors  she  had  that  day !  how 
they  hurried  up  and  down,  often  giving  each 
other  a  spiteful  slap  or  bite  as  they  passed.  The 
young  are  born  in  May,  four  or  five  at  a  birth. 

The  chipmunk  is  quite  a  solitary  creature ;  I 
have  never  known  more  than  one  to  occupy  the 
same  den.  Apparently  no  two  can  agree  to  live 
together.  What  a  clean,  pert,  dapper,  nervous 
little  fellow  he  is  !  How  fast  his  heart  beats,  as 
he  stands  up  on  the  wall  by  the  roadside,  and, 
with  hands  spread  out  upon  his  breast,  regards 
you  intently  !  A  movement  of  your  arm,  and 
he  darts  into  the  wall  with  a  saucy  cMp-r-r, 
which  has  the  effect  of  slamming  the  door  be- 
hind him. 

On  some  still  day  in  autumn,  one  of  the  nutty 


THE   CHIPMUNK  17 

days,  the  woods  will  often  be  pervaded  by  an 
undertone  of  sound,  produced  by  their  multi- 
tudinous clucking,  as  they  sit  near  their  dens. 
It  is  one  of  the  characteristic  sounds  of  fall. 

I  was  much  amused  one  October  in  watching  a 
chipmunk  carry  nuts  and  other  food  into  his  den. 
He  had  made  a  well-defined  path  from  his  door 
out  through  the  weeds  and  dry  leaves  into  the  ter- 
ritory where  his  feeding-ground  lay.  The  path 
was  a  crooked  one ;  it  dipped  under  weeds,  under 
some  large,  loosely  piled  stones,  under  a  pile  of 
chestnut  posts,  and  then  followed  the  remains  of 
an  old  wall.  Going  and  coming,  his  motions 
were  like  clock-work.  He  always  went  by  spurts 
and  sudden  sallies.  He  was  never  for  one  mo- 
ment off  his  guard.  He  would  appear  at  the 
mouth  of  his  den,  look  quickly  about,  take  a 
few  leaps  to  a  tussock  of  grass,  pause  a  breath 
with  one  foot  raised,  slip  quickly  a  few  yards 
over  some  dry  leaves,  pause  again  by  a  stump 
beside  a  path,  rush  across  the  path  to  the  pile  of 
loose  stones,  go  under  the  first  and  over  the  sec- 
ond, gain  the  pile  of  posts,  make  his  way  through 
that,  survey  his  course  a  half  moment  from  the 
other  side  of  it,  and  then  dart  on  to  some  other 
cover,  and  presently  beyond  my  range,  where  I 
think  he  gathered  acorns,  as  there  were  no  other 
nut-bearing  trees  than  oaks  near.     In  four  or 


18       SQUIRRELS  AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

five  minutes  I  would  see  him  coming  back,  always 
keeping  rigidly  to  the  course  he  took  going  out, 
pausing  at  the  same  spots,  darting  over  or  under 
the  same  objects,  clearing  at  a  bound  the  same 
pile  of  leaves.  There  was  no  variation  in  his 
manner  of  proceeding  all  the  time  I  observed 
him. 

He  was  alert,  cautious,  and  exceedingly  me- 
thodical. He  had  found  safety  in  a  certain 
course,  and  he  did  not  at  any  time  deviate  a 
hair's  breadth  from  it.  Something  seemed  to 
say  to  him  all  the  time,  "  Beware,  beware !  " 
The  nervous,  impetuous  ways  of  these  creatures 
are  no  doubt  the  result  of  the  life  of  fear  which 
they  lead. 

My  chipmunk  had  no  companion.  He  lived  all 
by  himself  in  true  hermit  fashion,  as  is  usually 
the  case  with  this  squirrel.  Provident  creature 
that  he  is,  one  would  think  that  he  would  long  ago 
have  discovered  that  heat,  and  therefore  food,  is 
economized  by  two  or  three  nesting  together. 

One  day  in  early  spring,  a  chipmunk  that  lived 
near  me  met  with  a  terrible  adventure,  the 
memory  of  which  will  probably  be  handed  down 
through  many  generations  of  its  family.  I  was 
sitting  in  the  summer-house  with  Nig  the  cat 
upon  my  knee,  when  the  chipmunk  came  out  of 
its  den  a  few  feet  away,  and  ran  quickly  to  a 


CHIPMUNK 


THE  CHIPMUNK  19 

pile  of  chestnut  posts  about  twenty  yards  from 
where  I  sat.  Nig  saw  it,  and  was  off  my  lap 
upon  the  floor  in  an  instant.  I  spoke  sharply 
to  the  cat,  when  she  sat  down  and  folded  her 
paws  under  her,  and  regarded  the  squirrel,  as  I 
thought,  with  only  a  dreamy  kind  of  interest. 
I  fancied  she  thought  it  a  hopeless  case  there 
amid  that  pile  of  posts.  ''  That  is  not  your  game, 
Nig,"  I  said,  "so  spare  yourself  any  anxiety." 
Just  then  I  was  called  to  the  house,  where  I  was 
detained  about  five  minutes.  As  I  returned  I 
met  Nig  coming  to  the  house  with  the  chipmunk 
in  her  mouth.  She  had  the  air  of  one  who  had 
won  a  wager.  She  carried  the  chipmunk  by  the 
throat,  and  its  body  hung  limp  from  her  mouth. 
I  quickly  took  the  squirrel  from  her,  and  reproved 
her  sharply.  It  lay  in  my  hand  as  if  dead,  though 
I  saw  no  marks  of  the  cat's  teeth  upon  it.  Pre- 
sently it  gasped  for  its  breath,  then  again  and 
again.  I  saw  that  the  cat  had  simply  choked  it. 
Quickly  the  film  passed  off  its  eyes,  its  heart 
began  visibly  to  beat,  and  slowly  the  breathing 
became  regular.  I  carried  it  back,  and  laid  it 
down  in  the  door  of  its  den.  In  a  moment  it 
crawled  or  kicked  itself  in.  In  the  afternoon  I 
placed  a  handful  of  corn  there,  to  express  my 
sympathy,  and  as  far  as  possible  make  amends 
for  Nig's  cruel  treatment. 


20       SQUIRRELS  AN^D  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

Not  till  four  or  five  days  had  passed  did  my 
little  neighbor  emerge  again  from  its  den,  and 
then  only  for  a  moment.  That  terrible  black 
monster  with  the  large  green-yellow  eyes,  —  it 
might  be  still  lurking  near.  How  the  black 
monster  had  captured  the  alert  and  restless  squir- 
rel so  quickly,  under  the  circumstances,  was  a 
great  mystery  to  me.  Was  not  its  eye  as  sharp 
as  the  cat's,  and  its  movements  as  quick?  Yet 
cats  do  have  the  secret  of  catching  squirrels,  and 
birds,  and  mice,  but  I  have  never  yet  had  the 
luck  to  see  it  done. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  the  chipmunk  was 
going  to  and  from  her  den  as  usual,  though  the 
dread  of  the  black  monster  seemed  ever  before 
her,  and  gave  speed  and  extra  alertness  to  all 
her  movements.  In  early  summer  four  young 
chipmunks  emerged  from  the  den,  and  ran  freely 
about.  There  was  nothing  to  disturb  them,  for, 
alas  !  Niof  herself  was  now  dead. 

One  summer  day  I  watched  a  cat  for  nearly  a 
half  hour  trying  her  arts  upon  a  chipmunk  that 
sat  upon  a  pile  of  stone.  Evidently  her  game 
was  to  stalk  him.  She  had  cleared  half  the  dis- 
tance, or  about  twelve  feet,  that  separated  the 
chipmunk  from  a  dense  Norway  spruce,  when  I 
chanced  to  become  a  spectator  of  the  little  drama. 
There  sat  the  cat  crouched  low  on  the  grass,  her 


THE   CHIPMUNK  21 

big,  yellow  eyes  fixed  upon  the  chipmunk,  and 
there  sat  the  chipmunk  at  the  mouth  of  his  den, 
motionless,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  cat.  For 
a  long  time  neither  moved.  "  Will  the  cat  bind 
him  with  her  fatal  spell  ?  "  I  thought.  Sometimes 
her  head  slowly  lowered  and  her  eyes  seemed  to 
dilate,  and  I  fancied  she  was  about  to  spring. 
But  she  did  not.  The  distance  was  too  great  to 
be  successfully  cleared  in  one  bound.  Then  the 
squirrel  moved  nervously,  but  kept  his  eye  upon 
the  enemy.  Then  the  cat  evidently  grew  tired 
and  relaxed  a  little  and  looked  behind  her. 
Then  she  crouched  again  and  riveted  her  gaze 
upon  the  squirrel.  But  the  latter  would  not  be 
hypnotized  ;  he  shifted  his  position  a  few  times 
and  finally  quickly  entered  his  den,  when  the  cat 
soon  slunk  away. 

In  digging  his  hole  it  is  evident  that  the  chip- 
munk carries  away  the  loose  soil.  Never  a  grain 
of  it  is  seen  in  front  of  his  door.  Those  pockets 
of  his  probably  stand  him  in  good  stead  on  such 
occasions.  Only  in  one  instance  have  I  seen  a 
pile  of  earth  before  the  entrance  to  a  chip- 
munk's den,  and  that  was  where  the  builder  had 
begun  his  house  late  in  November,  and  was  prob- 
ably too  much  hurried  to  remove  this  ugly  mark 
from  before  his  door.  I  used  to  pass  his  place 
every  morning  in  my  walk,  and  my  eye  always 


22       SQUIRRELS   AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

fell  upon  that  little  pile  of  red,  fresUy-dug  soiL 
A  little  later  I  used  frequently  to  surprise  the 
squirrel  furnishing  his  house,  carrying  in  dry 
leaves  of  the  maple  and  plane  tree.  He  would 
seize  a  large  leaf  and  with  both  hands  stuff  it 
into  his  cheek  pockets,  and  then  carry  it  into 
his  den.  I  saw  him  on  several  different  days  oc- 
cupied in  this  way.  I  trust  he  had  secured  his 
winter  stores,  though  I  am  a  little  doubtful.  He 
was  hurriedly  making  himself  a  new  home,  and 
the  cold  of  December  was  upon  us  while  he  was 
yet  at  work.  It  may  be  that  he  had  moved  the 
stores  from  his  old  quarters,  wherever  they  were, 
and  again  it  may  be  that  he  had  been  dispos- 
sessed of  both  his  house  and  provender  by  some 
other  chipmunk. 

I  have  been  told  by  a  man  who  says  he  has 
seen  what  he  avers,  that  the  reason  why  we  do 
not  find  a  pile  of  fresh  earth  beside  the  hole  of 
the  chipmunk  is  this :  In  making  his  den  the 
workman  continues  his  course  through  the  soil  a 
foot  or  more  under  the  surface  for  several  yards, 
carrying  out  the  earth  in  his  cheek  pouches  and 
dumping  it  near  the  entrance.  Then  he  comes 
to  the  surface  and  makes  a  new  hole  from  be- 
neath, which  is,  of  course,  many  feet  from  the 
first  hole.  This  latter  is  now  closed  up,  and 
henceforth  the  new  one  alone  is  used.  I  have 
no  doubt  this  is  the  true  explanation. 


THE  CHIPMUNK  23 

When  nuts  or  grain  are  not  to  be  had,  these 
thrifty  Httle  creatures  will  find  some  substitute 
to  help  them  over  the  winter.  Two  chipmunks 
near  my  study  were  occupied  many  days  in  carry- 
ing in  cherry  pits  which  they  gathered  beneath  a 
large  cherry-tree  that  stood  ten  or  twelve  rods 
away.  As  Nig  was  no  longer  about  to  molest 
them,  they  grew  very  fearless,  and  used  to  spin 
up  and  down  the  garden  path  to  and  from  their 
source  of  supplies  in  a  way  quite  unusual  with 
these  timid  creatures.  After  they  had  got  enough 
cherry  pits,  they  gathered  the  seed  of  a  sugar 
maple  that  stood  near.  Many  of  the  keys  re- 
mained upon  the  tree  after  the  leaves  had  fallen, 
and  these  the  squirrels  harvested.  They  would 
run  swiftly  out  upon  the  ends  of  the  small 
branches,  reach  out  for  the  maple  keys,  snip  off 
the  wings,  and  deftly  slip  the  nut  or  samara  into 
their  cheek  pockets.  Day  after  day  in  late  au- 
tumn, I  used  to  see  them  thus  occupied. 

As  I  have  said,  I  have  no  evidence  that  more 
than  one  chipmunk  occupy  the  same  den.  One 
March  morning  after  a  Hght  fall  of  snow  I  saw 
where  one  had  come  up  out  of  his  hole,  which 
was  in  the  side  of  our  path  to  the  vineyard,  and 
after  a  moment's  survey  of  the  surroundings  had 
started  off  on  his  travels.  I  followed  the  track 
to   see   where   he   had   gone.     He   had   passed 


24       SQUIRRELS  A:N'D  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

through  my  woodpile,  then  under  the  beehives, 
then  around  the  study  and  under  some  spruces 
and  along  the  slope  to  the  hole  of  a  friend  of 
hisj  about  sixty  yards  from  his  own.  Apparently 
he  had  gone  in  here,  and  then  his  friend  had 
come  forth  with  him,  for  there  were  two  tracks 
leading  from  this  doorway.  I  followed  them  to 
a  third  humble  entrance,  not  far  off,  where  the 
tracks  were  so  numerous  that  I  lost  the  trail.  It 
was  pleasing  to  see  the  evidence  of  their  morning 
sociability  written  there  upon  the  new  snow. 

One  of  the  enemies  of  the  chipmunk,  as  I  dis- 
covered lately,  is  the  weasel.  I  was  sitting  in 
the  woods  one  autumn  day  when  I  heard  a  small 
cry,  and  a  rustling  amid  the  branches  of  a  tree 
a  few  rods  beyond  me.  Looking  thither  I  saw 
a  chipmunk  fall  through  the  air,  and  catch  on  a 
limb  twenty  or  more  feet  from  the  ground.  He 
appeared  to  have  dropped  from  near  the  top  of 
the  tree. 

He  secured  his  hold  upon  the  small  branch 
that  had  luckily  intercepted  his  fall,  and  sat  per- 
fectly still.  In  a  moment  more  I  saw  a  weasel 
—  one  of  the  smaller  red  varieties  —  come  down 
the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  begin  exploring  the 
branches  on  a  level  with  the  chipmunk. 

I  saw  in  a  moment  what  had  happened.  The 
weasel  had  driven  the  squirrel  from  his  retreat  in 


THE  CHIPMUNK  25 

the  rocks  and  stones  beneath,  and  had  pressed 
him  so  closely  that  he  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
top  of  a  tree.  But  weasels  can  climb  trees,  too, 
and  this  one  had  tracked  the  frightened  chip- 
munk to  the  topmost  branch,  where  he  had  tried 
to  seize  him.  Then  the  squirrel  had,  in  horror, 
let  go  his  hold,  screamed,  and  fallen  through  the 
air,  till  he  struck  the  branch  as  just  described. 
Now  his  bloodthirsty  enemy  was  looking  for  him 
again,  apparently  relying  entirely  upon  his  sense 
of  smell  to  guide  him  to  the  game. 

How  did  the  weasel  know  the  squirrel  had  not 
fallen  clear  to  the  ground  ?  He  certainly  did 
know,  for  when  he  reached  the  same  tier  of 
branches  he  began  exploring  them.  The  chip- 
munk sat  transfixed  with  fear,  frozen  with  ter- 
ror, not  twelve  feet  away,  and  yet  the  weasel  saw 
him  not. 

Round  and  round,  up  and  down,  he  went  on 
the  branches,  exploring  them  over  and  over. 
How  he  hurried,  lest  the  trail  get  cold !  How 
subtle  and  cruel  and  fiendish  he  looked !  His 
snakelike  movements,  his  tenacity,  his  speed ! 

He  seemed  bafEed;  he  knew  his  game  was 
near,  but  he  could  not  strike  the  spot.  The 
branch,  upon  the  extreme  end  of  which  the 
squirrel  sat,  ran  out  and  up  from  the  tree  seven 
or  eight  feet,  and  then,  turning  a  sharp  elbow^ 


26       SQUIRRELS   AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

swept  down  and  out  at  right  angles  with  its  first 
course. 

The  weasel  would  pause  each  time  at  this 
elbow  and  turn  back.  It  seemed  as  if  he  knew 
that  particular  branch  held  his  prey,  and  yet  its 
crookedness  each  time  threw  him  out.  He  would 
not  give  it  up,  but  went  over  his  course  again 
and  again. 

One  can  fancy  the  feelings  of  the  chipmunk, 
sitting  there  in  plain  view  a  few  feet  away, 
watching  his  deadly  enemy  hunting  for  the  clue. 
How  his  little  heart  must  have  fairly  stood  still 
each  time  the  fatal  branch  was  struck  !  Probably 
as  a  last  resort  he  would  again  have  let  go  his 
hold  and  fallen  to  the  ground,  where  he  might 
have  eluded  his  enemy  a  while  longer. 

In  the  course  of  five  or  six  minutes  the  weasel 
gave  over  the  search,  and  ran  hurriedly  down  the 
tree  to  the  ground.  The  chipmunk  remained  mo- 
tionless for  a  long  time ;  then  he  stirred  a  little 
as  if  hope  were  reviving.  Then  he  looked  ner- 
vously about  him ;  then  he  had  recovered  him- 
self so  far  as  to  change  his  position.  Presently 
he  began  to  move  cautiously  along  the  branch 
to  the  bole  of  the  tree ;  then,  after  a  few  mo- 
ments' delay,  he  plucked  up  courage  to  descend 
to  the  ground,  where  I  hope  no  weasel  has 
disturbed  him  since. 


THE   CHIPMUNK  27 

One  season  a  chipmunk  had  his  den  in  the 
side  of  the  terrace  above  my  garden,  and  spent 
the  mornings  laying  in  a  store  of  corn  which  he 
stole  from  a  field  ten  or  twelve  rods  away.  In 
traversing  about  half  this  distance,  the  little 
poacher  was  exposed ;  the  first  cover  on  the  way 
from  his  den  was  a  large  maple,  where  he  always 
brought  up  and  took  a  survey  of  the  scene.  I 
would  see  him  spinning  along  toward  the  maple, 
then  from  it  by  an  easy  stage  to  the  fence  ad- 
joining the  corn ;  then  back  again  with  his 
booty.  One  morning  I  paused  to  watch  him 
more  at  my  leisure.  He  came  up  out  of  his 
retreat  and  cocked  himself  up  to  see  what  my 
motions  meant.  His  forepaws  were  clasped  to 
his  breast  precisely  as  if  they  had  been  hands, 
and  the  tips  of  the  fingers  thrust  into  his  vest 
pockets.  Having  satisfied  himself  with  reference 
to  me,  he  sped  on  toward  the  tree.  He  had 
nearly  reached  it,  when  he  turned  tail  and 
rushed  for  his  hole  with  the  greatest  precipita- 
tion. As  he  neared  it,  I  saw  some  bluish  object 
in  the  air  closing  in  upon  him  with  the  speed  of 
an  arrow,  and,  as  he  vanished  within,  a  shrike 
brought  up  in  front  of  the  spot,  and  with  spread 
wings  and  tail  stood  hovering  a  moment,  and, 
looking  in,  then  turned  and  went  away.  Appar- 
ently it  was  a  narrow  escape  for  the  chipmunk, 


28       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

and,  I  venture  to  say,  he  stole  no  more  corn  that 
morning.  The  shrike  is  said  to  catch  mice,  but 
it  is  not  known  to  attack  squirrels.  The  bird  cer- 
tainly could  not  have  strangled  the  chipmunk, 
and  I  am  curious  to  know  what  would  have  been 
the  result  had  he  overtaken  him.  Probably  it 
was  only  a  kind  of  brag  on  his  part  — a  bold 
dash  where  no  risk  was  run.  He  simulated  the 
hawk,  the  squirrel's  real  enemy,  and  no  doubt  en- 
joyed the  joke. 

The  sylvan  folk  seem  to  know  when  you  are 
on  a  peaceful  mission,  and  are  less  afraid  than 
usual.  Did  not  that  marmot  to-day  guess  my 
errand  did  not  concern  him  as  he  saw  me  ap- 
proach there  from  his  cover  in  the  bushes  ?  But, 
when  he  saw  me  pause  and  deliberately  seat  my- 
self on  the  stone  wall  immediately  over  his  hole, 
his  confidence  was  much  shaken.  He  apparently 
deliberated  awhile,  for  I  heard  the  leaves  rustle 
as  if  he  were  making  up  his  mind,  when  he  sud- 
denly broke  cover  and  came  for  his  hole  full 
tilt.  Any  other  animal  would  have  taken  to  his 
heels  and  fled ;  but  a  woodchuck's  heels  do  not 
amount  to  much  for  speed,  and  he  feels  his  only 
safety  is  in  his  hole.  On  he  came  in  the  most 
obstinate  and  determined  manner,  and  I  dare 
say  if  I  had  sat  down  in  his  hole  would  have 


THE   CHIPMUNK  29 

attacked  me  unhesitatingly.  This  I  did  not 
give  him  a  chance  to  do,  and  he  whipped  into 
his  den  beneath  me  with  a  defiant  snort.  Far- 
ther on,  a  saucy  chipmunk  presumed  upon  my 
harmless  character  to  an  unwonted  degree  also. 
I  had  paused  to  bathe  my  hands  and  face  in  a 
little  trout  brook,  and  had  set  a  tin  cup,  which  I 
had  partly  filled  with  strawberries  as  I  crossed 
the  field,  on  a  stone  at  my  feet,  when  along 
came  the  chipmunk  as  confidently  as  if  he  knew 
precisely  where  he  was  going,  and,  perfectly 
oblivious  of  my  presence,  cocked  himself  up  on 
the  rim  of  the  cup  and  proceeded  to  eat  my 
choicest  berries.  I  remained  motionless  and  ob- 
served him.  He  had  eaten  but  two  when  the 
thouo'ht  seemed  to  occur  to  him  that  he  mio^ht 
be  doing  better,  and  he  began  to  fill  his  pockets. 
Two,  four,  six,  eight  of  my  berries  quickly  dis- 
appeared, and  the  cheeks  of  the  little  vagabond 
swelled.  But  all  the  time  he  kept  eating,  that 
not  a  moment  might  be  lost.  Then  he  hopped 
off  the  cup,  and  went  skipping  from  stone  to 
stone  till  the  brook  was  passed,  when  he  disap- 
peared in  the  woods.  In  two  or  three  minutes 
he  was  back  again,  and  went  to  stuffing  himself 
as  before  ;  then  he  disappeared  a  second  time, 
and  I  imagined  told  a  friend  of  his,  for  in  a  mo- 
ment or  two  along  came  a  bobtailed  chipmunk, 


30       SQUIREELS   AND  OTHER  FUR-BEAEERS 

as  if  in  search  of  something,  and  passed  up,  and 
down,  and  around,  but  did  not  quite  hit  the 
spot.  Shortly,  the  first  returned  a  third  time, 
and  had  now  grown  a  little  fastidious,  for  he 
began  to  sort  over  my  berries,  and  to  bite  into 
them,  as  if  to  taste  their  quality.  He  was  not 
long  in  loading  up,  however,  and  in  making  off 
again.  But  I  had  now  got  tired  of  the  joke,  and 
my  berries  were  appreciably  diminishing,  so  I 
moved  away.  What  was  most  curious  about  the 
proceeding  was,  that  the  little  poacher  took  dif- 
ferent directions  each  time,  and  returned  from 
different  ways.  Was  this  to  elude  pursuit,  or 
was  he  distributing  the  fruit  to  his  friends  and 
neighbors  about,  astonishing  them  with  straw- 
berries for  lunch  ? 

On  another  occasion  I  was  much  amused  by 
three  chipmunks,  who  seemed  to  be  engaged  in 
some  kind  of  game.  It  looked  very  much  as  if 
they  were  playing  tag.  Round  and  round  they 
would  go,  first  one  taking  the  lead,  then  an- 
other, all  good-natured  and  gleeful  as  schoolboys. 
There  is  one  thing  about  a  chipmunk  that  is 
peculiar :  he  is  never  more  than  one  jump  from 
home.  Make  a  dive  at  him  anywhere  and  in  he 
goes.  He  knows  where  the  hole  is,  even  when 
it  is  covered  up  with  leaves.  There  is  no  doubt, 
also,  that  he  has  his  own  sense  of  humor  and 


THE  CHIPMUNK  31 

fun,  as  what  squirrel  has  not  ?  I  have  watched 
two  red  squirrels  for  a  half  hour  coursing  through 
the  large  trees  by  the  roadside  where  branches 
interlocked,  and  engaged  in  a  game  of  tag  as 
obviously  as  two  boys.  As  soon  as  the  pursuer 
had  come  up  with  the  pursued,  and  actually 
touched  him,  the  palm  was  his,  and  away  he 
would  go,  taxing  his  wits  and  his  speed  to  the 
utmost  to  elude  his  fellow. 

I  have  observed  that  any  unusual  disturbance 
in  the  woods,  near  where  the  chipmunk  has  his 
den,  will  cause  him  to  shift  his  quarters.  One 
October,  for  many  successive  days,  I  saw  one 
carrying  into  his  hole  buckwheat  which  he  had 
stolen  from  a  near  field.  The  hole  was  only  a 
few  rods  from  where  we  were  getting  out  stone, 
and  as  our  work  progressed,  and  the  racket  and 
uproar  increased,  the  chipmunk  became  alarmed. 
He  ceased  carrying  in,  and  after  much  hesitating 
and  darting  about,  and  some  prolonged  absences, 
he  began  to  carry  out ;  he  had  determined  to 
move ;  if  the  mountain  fell,  he,  at  least,  would 
be  away  in  time.  So,  by  mouthfuls  or  cheek- 
fuls,  the  grain  was  transferred  to  a  new  place. 
He  did  not  make  a  "  bee  "  to  get  it  done,  but 
carried  it  all  himself,  occupying  several  days, 
and  making  a  trip  about  every  ten  minutes. 


Ill 

THE   WOODCHUCK 

In  the  Middle  and  Eastern  States  our  wood- 
cliuck  takes  the  place,  in  some  respects,  of  the 
English  rabbit,  burrowing  in  every  hillside  and 
under  every  stone  wall  and  jutting  ledge  and 
large  boulder,  whence  it  makes  raids  upon  the 
grass  and  clover  and  sometimes  upon  the  gar- 
den vegetables.  It  is  quite  solitary  in  its  habits, 
seldom  more  than  one  inhabiting  the  same  den, 
unless  it  be  a  mother  and  her  young.  It  is  not 
now  so  much  a  wood  chuck  as  a  field  chuck. 
Occasionally,  however,  one  seems  to  prefer  the 
woods,  and  is  not  seduced  by  the  sunny  slopes 
and  the  succulent  grass,  but  feeds,  as  did  his 
fathers  before  him,  upon  roots  and  twigs,  the 
bark  of  young  trees,  and  upon  various  wood 
plants. 

One  summer  day,  as  I  was  swimming  across  a 
broad,  deep  pool  in  the  creek  in  a  secluded  place 
in  the  woods,  I  saw  one  of  these  sylvan  chucks 
amid  the  rocks  but  a  few  feet  from  the  edge  of 
the  water  where  I  proposed  to  touch.     He  saw 


THE  WOODCHUCK  33 

my  approach,  but  doubtless  took  me  for  some 
water-fowl,  or  for  some  cousin  of  his  of  the 
muskrat  tribe ;  for  he  went  on  with  his  feeding, 
and  regarded  me  not  till  I  paused  within  ten  feet 
of  him  and  lifted  myself  up.  Then  he  did  not 
know  me,  having,  perhaps,  never  seen  Adam  in 
his  simplicity,  but  he  twisted  his  nose  around 
to  catch  my  scent ;  and  the  moment  he  had  done 
so  he  sprang  like  a  jumping-jack  and  rushed  into 
his  den  with  the  utmost  precipitation. 

The  woodchuck  is  the  true  serf  among  our 
animals ;  he  belongs  to  the  soil,  and  savors  of  it. 
He  is  of  the  earth,  earthy.  There  is  generally  a 
decided  odor  about  his  dens  and  lurking  places, 
but  it  is  not  at  all  disagreeable  in  the  clover- 
scented  air ;  and  his  shrill  whistle,  as  he  takes  to 
his  hole  or  defies  the  farm  dog  from  the  interior 
of  the  stone  wall,  is  a  pleasant  summer  sound. 
In  form  and  movement  the  woodchuck  is  not 
captivating.  His  body  is  heavy  and  flabby.  In- 
deed, such  a  flaccid,  fluid,  pouchy  carcass  I  have 
never  before  seen.  It  has  absolutely  no  muscu- 
lar tension  or  rigidity,  but  is  as  baggy  and  shaky 
as  a  skin  filled  with  water.  The  legs  of  the 
woodchuck  are  short  and  stout,  and  made  for 
digging  rather  than  running.  The  latter  opera- 
tion he  performs  by  short  leaps,  his  belly  scarcely 
clearing  the  ground.     For  a  short  distance  he 


34       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

can  make  very  good  time,  but  he  seldom  trusts 
himself  far  from  his  hole,  and,  when  surprised  in 
that  predicament,  makes  little  effort  to  escape, 
but,  grating  his  teeth,  looks  the  danger  squarely 
in  the  face. 

I  knew  a  farmer  in  New  York  who  had  a  very 
large  bob  tailed  churn-dog  by  the  name  of  Cuff. 
The  farmer  kept  a  large  dairy  and  made  a  great 
deal  of  butter,  and  it  was  the  business  of  Cuff  to 
spend  nearly  the  half  of  each  summer  day  tread- 
ing the  endless  round  of  the  churning-machine. 
During  the  remainder  of  the  day  he  had  plenty 
of  time  to  sleep  and  rest,  and  sit  on  his  hips  and 
survey  the  landscape.  One  day,  sitting  thus,  he 
discovered  a  woodchuck  about  forty  rods  from 
the  house,  on  a  steep  sidehill,  feeding  about  near 
his  hole,  which  was  beneath  a  large  rock.  The 
old  dog,  forgetting  his  stiffness,  and  remember- 
ing the  fun  he  had  had  with  woodchucks  in  his 
earlier  days,  started  off  at  his  highest  speed, 
vainly  hoping  to  catch  this  one  before  he  could 
get  to  his  hole.  But  the  woodchuck,  seeing  the 
dog  come  laboring  up  the  hill,  sprang  to  the 
mouth  of  his  den,  and,  when  his  pursuer  was 
only  a  few  rods  off,  whistled  tauntingly  and  went 
in.  This  occurred  several  times,  the  old  dog 
marching  up  the  hill,  and  then  marching  down 
again,  having  had  his  labor  for  his  pains. 


THE  WOODCHUCK  35 

I  suspect  that  he  revolved  the  subject  in  his 
mind  while  revolving  the  great  wheel  of  the 
churning-machine,  and  that  some  turn  or  other 
brought  him  a  happy  thought^  for  next  time  he 
showed  himself  a  strategist.  Instead  of  giving 
chase  to  the  woodchuck,  when  first  discovered,  he 
crouched  down  to  the  ground,  and,  resting  his 
head  on  his  paws,  watched  him.  The  wood- 
chuck  kept  working  away  from  his  hole,  lured 
by  the  tender  clover,  but,  not  unmindful  of  his 
safety,  lifted  himself  up  on  his  haunches  every 
few  moments  and  surveyed  the  approaches.  Pre- 
sently, after  the  woodchuck  had  let  himself  down 
from  one  of  these  attitudes  of  observation  and 
resumed  his  feeding.  Cuff  started  swiftly  but 
stealthily  up  the  hill,  precisely  in  the  attitude  of 
a  cat  when  she  is  stalking  a  bird.  When  the 
woodchuck  rose  up  again.  Cuff  was  perfectly  mo- 
tionless and  half  hid  by  the  grass.  When  he 
again  resumed  his  clover,  Cuff  sped  up  the  hill 
as  before,  this  time  crossing  a  fence,  but  in  a 
low  place,  and  so  nimbly  that  he  was  not  discov- 
ered. Again  the  woodchuck  was  on  the  outlook, 
again  Cuff  was  motionless  and  hugging  the 
ground.  As  the  dog  neared  his  victim  he  was 
partially  hidden  by  a  swell  in  the  earth,  but  still 
the  woodchuck  from  his  outlook  reported  "  All 
right,"  when  Cuff,  having  not  twice  as  far  to 


36       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

run  as  the  chuck,  threw  all  stealthiness  aside  and 
rushed  directly  for  the  hole.  At  that  moment 
the  woodchuck  discovered  his  danger,  and,  see- 
ing that  it  was  a  race  for  life,  leaped  as  I  never 
saw  marmot  leap  before.  But  he  was  two  sec- 
onds too  late,  his  retreat  was  cut  off,  and  the 
powerful  jaws  of  the  old  dog  closed  upon  him. 

The  next  season  Cuff  tried  the  same  tactics 
again  with  like  success,  but  when  the  third  wood- 
chuck  had  taken  up  his  abode  at  the  fatal  hole, 
the  old  churner's  wits  and  strength  had  begun  to 
fail  him,  and  he  was  baf&ed  in  each  attempt  to 
capture  the  animal. 

The  woodchuck  usually  burrows  on  a  sidehill. 
This  enables  him  to  guard  against  being  drowned 
out,  by  making  the  termination  of  the  hole  higher 
than  the  entrance.  He  digs  in  slantingly  for 
about  two  or  three  feet,  then  makes  a  sharp  up- 
ward turn  and  keeps  nearly  parallel  with  the  sur- 
face of  the  ground  for  a  distance  of  eight  or  ten 
feet  farther,  according  to  the  grade.  Here  he 
makes  his  nest  and  passes  the  winter,  holing  up 
in  October  or  November  and  coming  out  again 
in  March  or  April.  This  is  a  long  sleep,  and  is 
rendered  possible  only  by  the  amount  of  fat  with 
which  the  system  has  become  stored  during  the 
summer.  The  fire  of  life  still  burns,  but  very 
faintly  and  slowly,  as  with  the  draughts  all  closed 


THE  WOODCHUCK  37 

and  the  ashes  heaped  up.  Respiration  is  contin- 
ued, but  at  longer  intervals,  and  all  the  vital  pro- 
cesses are  nearly  at  a  standstill.  Dig  one  out 
during  hibernation  (Audubon  did  so),  and  you 
find  it  a  mere  inanimate  ball,  that  suffers  itself 
to  be  moved  and  rolled  about  without  showing 
signs  of  awakening.  But  bring  it  in  by  the  fire, 
and  it  presently  unrolls  and  opens  its  eyes,  and 
crawls  feebly  about,  and  if  left  to  itself  will  seek 
some  dark  hole  or  corner,  roll  itself  up  again, 
and  resume  its  former  condition. 


IV 

THE    RABBIT   AND    THE    HARE 

With  us  the  hare  is  of  the  remote  northern 
woods,  the  rabbit  is  of  the  fields  and  bushy  mar- 
gins of  the  woods.  One  retreats  before  man  and 
civilization,  the  other  follows  in  their  wake.  The 
rabbit  is  now  common  in  parts  of  our  State  (New 
York)  where  in  my  boyhood  only  the  hare  was 
found.  The  rabbit  evidently  loves  to  be  neigh- 
bor to  man  and  profits  by  it.  Nearly  every 
winter  one  takes  up  her  abode  under  my  study 
floor,  and  when  the  snow  is  deep  and  the  weather 
is  cold  she  usually  finds  every  night  a  couple  of 
sweet  apples  on  her  threshold.  I  suppose  she 
thinks  they  grow  there,  or  are  blown  there  by 
the  wind  like  the  snow.  At  such  times  she  does 
not  leave  her  retreat ;  the  apples  are  good  for- 
tune enough.  If  I  neglect  to  put  them  there,  in 
the  morning  I  see  where  she  has  gone  forth  over 
the  lawn  looking  for  them,  or  for  some  other 
food. 

I  wonder  if  that  fox  chanced  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her  the  other  night  when  he  stealth- 


THE  RABBIT  AND  THE  HARE       39 

ily  leaped  over  the  fence  near  by  and  walked 
along  between  the  study  and  the  house?  How 
clearly  one  could  read  that  it  was  not  a  little  dog 
that  had  passed  there !  There  was  something 
furtive  in  the  track ;  it  shied  off  away  from  the 
house  and  around  it,  as  if  eyeing  it  suspiciously ; 
and  then  it  had  the  caution  and  deliberation  of 
the  fox,  —  bold,  bold,  but  not  too  bold ;  wariness 
was  in  every  footprint.  If  it  had  been  a  little 
dog  that  had  chanced  to  wander  that  way,  when 
he  crossed  my  path  he  would  have  followed  it  up 
to  the  barn  and  have  gone  smelling  around  for  a 
bone ;  but  this  sharp,  cautious  track  held  straight 
across  all  others,  keeping  five  or  six  rods  from 
the  house,  up  the  hill,  across  the  highway  toward 
a  neighboring  farmstead,  with  its  nose  in  the  air, 
and  its  eye  and  ear  alert,  so  to  speak. 

One  summer  a  wild  rabbit  came  up  within  a 
few  feet  of  my  neighbor's  house,  scooped  out  a 
little  place  in  the  turf,  and  reared  her  family 
there.  I  suppose  she  felt  more  secure  from 
prowling  cats  and  dogs  than  in  the  garden  or 
vineyard.  My  neighbor  took  me  out  to  let  me 
into  her  secret.  He  pointed  down  to  the  ground 
a  few  feet  in  front  of  us  and  said,  "  There  it  is." 
I  looked  and  saw  nothing  but  the  newly  mown 
turf  with  one  spot  the  size  of  my  two  hands 
where  the  grass  was  apparently  dead.     "  I  see 


40       SQUIREELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

no  rabbit  nor  any  signs  of  a  rabbit/'  I  replied. 
He  stooped  to  this  dry  spot  and  lifted  up  a  little 
blanket  or  carpet  of  matted  dry  grass  and  re- 
vealed one  of  the  prettiest  sights  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  the  only  one  of  the  kind  I  had  ever 
looked  upon !  —  four  or  five  little  rabbits  half  the 
size  of  chipmunks,  cuddled  down  in  a  dry  fur- 
lined  nest.  They  did  not  move  or  wink,  and 
their  ears  were  pressed  down  close  to  their 
heads.  My  neighbor  let  the  coverlet  fall  back, 
and  they  were  hidden  again  as  by  magic. 

They  had  been  discovered  a  few  days  before 
when  the  lawn  was  mown,  and  one,  as  it  sprang 
out  from  the  nest,  was  killed  by  the  mower,  who 
mistook  it  for  a  young  rat.  The  rest  of  them 
fled  and  disappeared  through  the  grass,  but  the 
next  morning  they  were  back  in  the  nest,  where 
they  remained  for  several  days  longer.  Only  at 
night,  so  far  as  was  observed,  did  the  mother 
visit  and  nurse  them. 

There  was  no  opening  into  the  nest,  the  mat 
of  dried  grass  covered  it  completely,  so  that  the 
mother,  in  her  visits  to  them,  must  have  lifted  it 
up  and  crept  beneath.  It  was  a  very  pretty  and 
cunning  device.  One  might  have  stepped  upon 
it  in  his  walk,  but  surely  his  eyes  alone  would 
never  have  penetrated  the  secret.  I  am  told  by 
men  wise  in  the  lore  of  the  fields  and  woods 


THE  RABBIT  AND  THE  HARE       41 

that  the  rabbit  always  covers  her  nest  and  young 
with  a  Httle  blanket,  usually  made  of  fur  plucked 
from  her  own  breast. 

The  rabbit  seems  to  suffer  very  little  from 
the  deep  snows  and  severe  cold  of  winter.  The 
deeper  the  snow,  the  nearer  she  is  brought  to 
the  tops  of  the  tender  bushes  and  shoots.  I  see 
in  my  walks  where  she  has  cropped  the  tops  of 
the  small,  bushy,  soft  maples,  cutting  them  slant- 
ingly as  you  would  with  a  knife,  and  quite  as 
smoothly.  Indeed,  the  mark  was  so  like  that  of 
a  knife  that,  notwithstanding  the  tracks,  it  was 
only  after  the  closest  scrutiny  that  I  was  con- 
vinced it  was  the  sharp,  chisel-like  teeth  of  the 
rabbit.  She  leaves  no  chips,  and  apparently 
makes  clean  work  of  every  twig  she  cuts  off. 

The  hare  is  nocturnal  in  its  habits,  and  though 
a  very  lively  creature  at  night,  with  regular 
courses  and  run-ways  through  the  wood,  is  en- 
tirely quiet  by  day.  Timid  as  he  is,  he  makes 
little  effort  to  conceal  himself,  usually  squatting 
beside  a  log,  stump,  or  tree,  and  seeming  to 
avoid  rocks  and  ledges  where  he  might  be  par- 
tially housed  from  the  cold  and  the  snow,  but 
where  also  —  and  this  consideration  undoubtedly 
determines  his  choice  —  he  would  be  more  apt  to 
fall  a  prey  to  his  enemies.  In  this,  as  well  as  in 
many  other  respects,  he  differs  from  the  rabbit 


42       SQUIRRELS   AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

proper.  He  never  burrows  in  the  ground,  or  takes 
refuge  in  a  den  or  hole,  when  pursued.  If  caught 
in  the  open  fields,  he  is  much  confused  and  easily 
overtaken  by  the  dog;  but  in  the  woods,  he 
leaves  his  enemy  at  a  bound.  In  summer,  when 
first  disturbed,  he  beats  the  ground  violently  with 
his  feet,  by  which  means  he  would  express  to  you 
his  surprise  or  displeasure ;  it  is  a  dumb  way  he 
has  of  scolding.  After  leaping  a  few  yards,  he 
pauses  an  instant,  as  if  to  determine  the  degree 
of  danger,  and  then  hurries  away  with  a  much 
lighter  tread. 

His  feet  are  like  great  pads,  and  his  track  in 
the  snow  has  little  of  the  sharp,  articulated  ex- 
pression of  Reynard's,  or  of  animals  that  climb 
or  dig.  Yet  it  is  very  pretty,  like  all  the  rest, 
and  tells  its  own  tale.  There  is  nothing  bold 
or  vicious  or  vulpine  in  it,  and  his  timid,  harm- 
less character  is  published  at  every  leap.  He 
abounds  in  dense  woods,  preferring  localities 
filled  with  a  small  undergrowth  of  beech  and 
birch,  upon  the  bark  of  which  he  feeds.  Nature 
is  rather  partial  to  him,  and  matches  his  extreme 
local  habits  and  character  with  a  suit  that  cor- 
responds with  his  surroundings,  —  reddish  gray 
in  summer  and  white  in  winter. 


THE    MUSKEAT 

It  sometimes  looks  as  if  the  muskrat  were 
weather-wise  and  could  forecast  the  coming  sea- 
son. I  doubt  if  a  long  series  of  observations 
would  bear  out  the  truth  of  this  remark,  yet  I 
have  noticed  that  in  his  nest-building  he  some- 
times hits  the  mark  with  surprising  accuracy. 

In  the  fall  of  1878  I  observed  that  he  built 
unusually  high  and  massive  nests.  I  noticed 
them  in  several  different  localities.  In  a  shallow, 
sluggish  pond  by  the  roadside,  which  I  used  to 
pass  daily  in  my  walk,  two  nests  were  in  process 
of  construction  throuo^hout  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber.  The  builders  worked  only  at  night,  and  I 
could  see  each  day  that  the  work  had  visibly  ad- 
vanced. When  there  was  a  shght  skim  of  ice 
over  the  pond,  this  was  broken  up  about  the 
nests,  with  trails  through  it  in  different  directions 
where  the  material  had  been  brought.  The 
houses  were  placed  a  little  to  one  side  of  the 
main  channel,  and  were  constructed  entirely  of  a 
species  of  coarse  wild  grass  that  grew  all  about. 


44       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

So  far  as  I  could  see^  from  first  to  last  they  were 
solid  masses  of  grass^  as  if  the  interior  cavity  or 
nest  was  to  be  excavated  afterward,  as  doubtless 
it  was.  As  they  emerged  from  the  pond  they 
gradually  assumed  the  shape  of  a  miniature  moun- 
tain, very  bold  and  steep  on  the  south  side,  and 
running  down  a  long  gentle  grade  to  the  surface 
of  the  water  on  the  north.  One  could  see  that 
the  little  architect  hauled  all  his  material  up  this 
easy  slope,  and  thrust  it  out  boldly  around  the 
other  side.  Every  mouthful  was  distinctly  de- 
fined. After  they  were  two  feet  or  more  above 
the  water,  I  expected  each  day  to  see  that  the 
finishing  stroke  had  been  given  and  the  work 
brought  to  a  close.  But  higher  yet,  said  the 
builder. 

December  drew  near,  the  cold  became  threat- 
ening, and  I  was  apprehensive  that  winter  would 
suddenly  shut  down  upon  those  unfinished  nests. 
But  the  wise  muskrats  seemed  to  know  better 
than  I  did.  Finally,  about  the  6th  of  December, 
the  nests  assumed  completion ;  the  northern  in- 
cline was  absorbed  or  carried  up,  and  each  struc- 
ture became  a  strong  massive  cone,  three  or  four 
feet  high,  the  largest  nest  of  the  kind  I  had  ever 
seen.  "Does  it  mean  a  severe  winter?"  I  in- 
quired. An  old  farmer  said  it  meant  "  high 
water,"  and  he  was  right  once,  at  least,  for  in  a  few 


THE  MUSKRAT  45 

days  afterward  we  had  the  heaviest  rainfall  known 
in  this  section  for  half  a  century.  The  creeks 
rose  to  an  almost  unprecedented  height.  The 
sluggish  pond  became  a  seething,  turbulent  water- 
course ;  gradually  the  angry  element  crept  up  the 
sides  of  these  lake  dwellings^  till^  when  the  rain 
ceased,  about  four  o'clock,  they  showed  above 
the  flood  no  larger  than  a  man's  hat.  During 
the  night  the  channel  shifted  till  the  main  current 
swept  over  them,  and  next  day  not  a  vestige  of 
the  nests  was  to  be  seen;  they  had  gone  down- 
stream, as  had  many  other  dwellings  of  a  less 
temporary  character.  The  rats  had  built  wisely, 
and  would  have  been  perfectly  secure  against  any 
ordinary  high  water,  but  who  can  foresee  a  flood  ? 
The  oldest  traditions  of  their  race  did  not  run 
back  to  the  time  of  such  a  visitation. 

Nearly  a  week  afterward  another  dwelling  was 
begun,  well  away  from  the  treacherous  channel, 
but  the  architects  did  not  work  at  it  with  much 
heart ;  the  material  was  very  scarce,  the  ice  hin- 
dered, and  before  the  basement-story  was  fairly 
finished,  winter  had  the  pond  under  his  lock  and 
key. 

In  other  localities  I  noticed  that  where  the 
nests  were  placed  on  the  banks  of  streams,  they 
were  made  secure  against  the  floods  by  being 
built  amid  a  small  clump  of  bushes.     When  the 


46       SQUIRRELS  AN^D  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

fall  of  1879  camej  the  muskrats  were  very  tardy 
about  beginning  their  house,  laying  the  corner- 
stone —  or  the  corner-sod  —  about  December  1, 
and  continuing  the  work  slowly  and  indifferently. 
On  the  15th  of  the  month  the  nest  was  not  yet 
finished.  "Maybe/'  I  said,  "this  indicates  a 
mild  winter;"  and,  sure  enough,  the  season  was 
one  of  the  mildest  known  for  many  years.  The 
rats  had  little  use  for  their  house. 

Again,  in  the  fall  of  1880,  while  the  weather- 
wise  were  wagging  their  heads,  some  forecasting 
a  mild,  some  a  severe  winter,  I  watched  with 
interest  for  a  sign  from  my  muskrats.  About 
November  1,  a  month  earlier  than  the  previous 
year,  they  began  their  nest,  and  worked  at  it 
with  a  will.  They  appeared  to  have  just  got 
tidings  of  what  was  coming.  If  I  had  taken 
the  hint  so  palpably  given,  my  celery  would  not 
have  been  frozen  up  in  the  ground,  and  my 
apples  caught  in  unprotected  places.  When  the 
cold  wave  struck  us,  about  November  20,  my 
four-legged  "  I  told-you-so's  "  had  nearly  com- 
pleted their  dwelling ;  it  lacked  only  the  ridge- 
board,  so  to  speak  ;  it  needed  a  little  "  topping 
out,"  to  give  it  a  finished  look.  But  this  it  never 
got.  The  winter  had  come  to  stay,  and  it  waxed 
more  and  more  severe,  till  the  unprecedented 
cold  of  the  last  days  of  December  must  have 


Pi 


THE  MUSKRAT  47 

astonished  even  the  wise  muskrats  in  their  snug 
retreat.  I  approached  their  nest  at  this  time,  a 
white  mound  upon  the  white,  deeply  frozen  sur- 
face of  the  pond,  and  wondered  if  there  was  any 
life  in  that  apparent  sepulchre.  I  thrust  my 
walking-stick  sharply  into  it,  when  there  was  a 
rustle  and  a  splash  into  the  water,  as  the  occu- 
pant made  his  escape.  What  a  damp  basement 
that  house  has,  I  thought,  and  what  a  pity  to 
rout  a  peaceful  neighbor  out  of  his  bed  in  this 
weather,  and  into  such  a  state  of  things  as  this ! 
But  water  does  not  wet  the  muskrat ;  his  fur  is 
charmed,  and  not  a  drop  penetrates  it. 

Where  the  ground  is  favorable,  the  muskrats 
do  not  build  these  mound-like  nests,  but  burrow 
into  the  bank  a  long  distance,  and  establish  their 
winter  quarters  there. 

The  muskrat  does  not  hibernate  like  some  ro- 
dents, but  is  pretty  active  all  winter.  In  Decem- 
ber I  noticed  in  my  walk  where  they  had  made 
excursions  of  a  few  yards  to  an  orchard  for  frozen 
apples.  One  day,  along  a  little  stream,  I  saw  a 
mink  track  amid  those  of  the  muskrat ;  following- 
it  up,  I  presently  came  to  blood  and  other  marks 
of  strife  upon  the  snow  beside  a  stone  wall. 
Looking  in  between  the  stones,  I  found  the  car' 
cass  of  the  luckless  rat,  with  its  head  and  neck 
eaten  away.    The  mink  had  made  a  meal  of  him. 


VI 

THE    SKUNK 

In  February  a  new  track  appears  upon  the 
snow^  slender  and  delicate,  about  a  third  larger 
than  that  of  the  gray  squirrel,  indicating  no 
haste  or  speed,  but,  on  the  contrary,  denoting 
the  most  imperturbable  ease  and  leisure,  the  foot- 
prints so  close  together  that  the  trail  appears 
like  a  chain  of  curiously  carved  links.  Sir  Me- 
phitis  mephitica,  or,  in  plain  English,  the  skunk, 
has  waked  up  from  his  six  weeks'  nap,  and  come 
out  into  society  again.  He  is  a  nocturnal  trav- 
eler, very  bold  and  impudent,  coming  quite  up 
to  the  barn  and  outbuildings,  and  sometimes 
taking  up  his  quarters  for  the  season  under  the 
haymow.  There  is  no  such  word  as  hurry  in  his 
dictionary,  as  you  may  see  by  his  path  upon  the 
snow.  He  has  a  very  sneaking,  insinuating  way, 
and  goes  creeping  about  the  fields  and  woods, 
never  once  in  a  perceptible  degree  altering  his 
gait,  and,  if  a  fence  crosses  his  course,  steers  for 
a  break  or  opening  to  avoid  climbing.  He  is  too 
indolent  even  to  dig  his  own  hole,  but  appropri- 


THE  SKUNK  49 

ates  that  of  a  woodchuck,  or  hunts  out  a  crevice 
in  the  rocks,  from  which  he  extends  his  rambling 
in  all  directions,  preferring  damp,  thawy  weather. 
He  has  very  little  discretion  or  cunning,  and 
holds  a  trap  in  utter  contempt,  stepping  into  it 
as  soon  as  beside  it,  relying  implicitly  for  defense 
against  all  forms  of  danger  upon  the  unsavory 
punishment  he  is  capable  of  inflicting.  He  is 
quite  indifferent  to  both  man  and  beast,  and  will 
not  hurry  himself  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  either. 
Walking  through  the  summer  fields  at  twilight, 
I  have  come  near  stepping  upon  him,  and  was 
much  the  more  disturbed  of  the  two. 

He  has  a  secret  to  keep  and  knows  it,  and  is 
careful  not  to  betray  himself  until  he  can  do  so 
with  the  most  telling  effect.  I  have  known  him 
to  preserve  his  serenity  even  when  caught  in  a 
steel  trap,  and  look  the  very  picture  of  injured 
innocence,  manoeuvring  carefully  and  deliber- 
ately to  extricate  his  foot  from  the  grasp  of  the 
naughty  jaws.  Do  not  by  any  means  take  pity 
on  him,  and  lend  a  helping  hand  ! 

How  pretty  his  face  and  head  !  How  fine  and 
delicate  his  teeth,  like  a  weasel's  or  a  cat's  !  When 
about  a  third  grown,  he  looks  so  well  that  one 
covets  him  for  a  pet.  My  neighbor  once  cap- 
tured a  young  one,  which  he  kept  over  a  year, 
and  which  afforded  him  much  amusement.  He 
named  it  Mahomet. 


50       SQUIRRELS   AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

No  animal  is  more  cleanly  in  its  habits  than 
he.  He  is  not  an  awkward  boy  who  cuts  his 
own  face  with  his  whip  ;  and  neither  his  flesh 
nor  his  fur  hints  the  weapon  with  which  he  is 
armed.  The  most  silent  creature  known  to  me, 
he  makes  no  sound,  so  far  as  I  have  observed, 
save  a  diffuse,  impatient  noise,  like  that  produced 
by  beating  your  hand  with  a  whisk-broom,  when 
the  farm-dog  has  discovered  his  retreat  in  the 
stone  fence.  He  renders  himself  obnoxious  to 
the  farmer  by  his  partiality  for  hens'  eggs  and 
young  poultry.  He  is  a  confirmed  epicure,  and 
at  plundering  hen-roosts  an  expert.  Not  the  full- 
grown  fowls  are  his  victims,  but  the  youngest  and 
most  tender.  At  night  Mother  Hen  receives 
under  her  maternal  wings  a  dozen  newly  hatched 
chickens,  and  with  much  pride  and  satisfaction 
feels  them  all  safely  tucked  away  in  her  feathers. 
In  the  morning  she  is  walking  about  disconso- 
lately, attended  by  only  two  or  three  of  all  that 
pretty  brood.  What  has  happened  ?  Where  are 
they  gone  ?  That  pickpocket,  Sir  Mephitis,  could 
solve  the  mystery.  Quietly  has  he  approached, 
under  cover  of  darkness,  and  one  by  one  relieved 
her  of  her  precious  charge.  Look  closely,  and 
you  will  see  their  little  yellow  legs  and  beaks,  or 
part  of  a  mangled  form,  lying  about  on  the 
ground.     Or,   before  the  hen  has  hatched,  he 


SKUNK 


THE  SKUNK  51 

may  find  her  out,  and,  by  the  same  sleight  of 
hand,  remove  every  egg,  leaving  only  the  empty 
blood-stained  shells  to  witness  against  him.  The 
birds,  especially  the  ground-builders,  suffer  in 
like  manner  from  his  plundering  propensities. 

The  secretion  upon  which  he  relies  for  defense, 
and  which  is  the  chief  source  of  his  unpopularity, 
while  it  affords  good  reasons  against  cultivating 
him  as  a  pet,  and  mars  his  attractiveness  as  game, 
is  by  no  means  the  greatest  indignity  that  can  be 
offered  to  a  nose.  It  is  a  rank,  living  smell,  and 
has  none  of  the  sickening  qualities  of  disease  or 
putrefaction.  Indeed,  I  think  a  good  smeller  will 
enjoy  its  most  refined  intensity.  It  approaches 
the  sublime,  and  makes  the  nose  tingle.  It  is 
tonic  and  bracing,  and,  I  can  readily  believe,  has 
rare  medicinal  qualities.  I  do  not  recommend  its 
use  as  eye-water,  though  an  old  farmer  assures 
me  it  has  undoubted  virtues  when  thus  applied. 
Hearing,  one  night,  a  disturbance  among  his 
hens,  he  rushed  suddenly  out  to  catch  the  thief, 
when  Sir  Mephitis,  taken  by  surprise,  and  no 
doubt  much  annoyed  at  being  interrupted,  dis- 
charged the  vials  of  his  wrath  full  in  the  farmer's 
face,  and  with  such  admirable  effect  that,  for  a 
few  moments,  he  was  completely  blinded,  and 
powerless  to  revenge  himself  upon  the  rogue, 
who  embraced  the  opportunity  to  make  good  his 


52       SQUIRRELS   AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

escape ;  but  he  declared  that  afterwards  his  eyes 
felt  as  if  purged  by  fire,  and  his  sight  was  much 
clearer. 

The  skunk  has  perfect  confidence  in  the  effi- 
cacy of  his  weapon.  Late  one  March  afternoon 
in  my  walk,  I  saw  one  coming  down  through  a 
field  toward  the  highway.  I  thought  I  would 
intercept  him  and  turn  him  back.  I  advanced  to 
within  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  of  him,  and,  as  he 
did  not  check  his  course,  judged  it  prudent  to 
check  mine.  On  he  came  toward  me,  with  the 
most  jaunty  and  frolicsome  air,  waving  his  tail 
high  above  his  head  and  challenging  me  to  the 
combat.  I  retreated  and  he  pursued,  till  I  finally 
left  him  master  of  the  field. 


VII 

THE    FOX 

It  has  been  many  a  long  day  since  I  heard  a 
fox  barkj  but  in  my  youth  among  the  Catskills  I 
often  heard  the  sound,  especially  of  a  still  moon- 
light night  in  midwinter.  Perhaps  it  was  more 
a  cry  than  a  bark,  not  continuous  like  the  baying 
of  a  dog,  but  uttered  at  intervals.  One  feels  that 
the  creature  is  trying  to  bark,  but  has  not  yet 
learned  the  trick  of  it.  But  it  is  a  wild,  weird 
sound.  I  would  get  up  any  night  to  hear  it  again. 
I  used  to  listen  for  it  when  a  boy,  standing  in 
front  of  my  father's  house.  Presently  I  would 
hear  one  away  up  on  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
and  I  imagined  I  could  almost  see  him  sitting 
there  in  his  furs  upon  the  illuminated  surface 
and  looking  down  in  my  direction.  As  I  listened, 
maybe  one  would  answer  him  from  behind  the 
woods  in  the  valley,  a  fitting  sound  amid  the 
ghostly  winter  hills. 

The  red  fox  was  the  only  species  that  abounded 
in  this  locality.  On  my  way  to  school  in  the 
morning,  after  a  fresh  fall  of  snow,  I  would  see 


54       SQUIRRELS  A:N^D  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

at  many  points  where  he  had  crossed  the  road. 
Here  he  had  leisurely  passed  within  rifle-range 
of  the  house,  evidently  reconnoitring  the  prem- 
ises with  an  eye  to  the  hen-roost.  That  clear, 
sharp  track,  —  there  was  no  mistaking  it  for  the 
clumsy  footprint  of  a  little  dog.  All  his  wildness 
and  agility  were  photographed  in  it.  Here  he 
had  taken  fright,  or  suddenly  recollected  an  en- 
gagement, and  in  long,  graceful  leaps,  barely 
touching  the  fence,  had  gone  careering  up  the 
hill  as  fleet  as  the  wind. 

The  usual  gait  of  the  fox,  unlike  that  of  the 
dog,  is,  at  night  at  least,  a  walk.  On  such  occa- 
sions he  is  in  quest  of  game  and  he  goes  through 
the  woods  and  fields  in  an  alert,  stealthy  manner, 
stepping  about  a  foot  at  a  time,  and  keeping  his 
eyes  and  ears  open. 

The  wild,  buoyant  creature,  how  beautiful  he 
is !  I  had  often  seen  his  dead  carcass,  and  at  a 
distance  had  witnessed  the  hounds  drive  him 
across  the  upper  fields ;  but  the  thrill  and  ex- 
citement of  meeting  him  in  his  wild  freedom  in 
the  woods  were  unknown  to  me  till,  one  cold 
winter  day,  drawn  thither  by  the  baying  of  a 
hound,  I  stood  near  the  summit  of  the  mountain, 
waiting  a  renewal  of  the  sound,  that  I  might  de- 
termine the  course  of  the  dog  and  choose  my 
position,  —  stimulated  by    the   ambition    of   all 


THE  FOX  55 

young  Nimrods  to  bag  some  notable  game. 
Long  I  waited,  and  patiently,  till,  chilled  and 
benumbed,  I  was  about  to  turn  back,  when,  hear- 
ing a  slight  noise,  I  looked  up  and  beheld  a  most 
superb  fox,  loping  along  with  inimitable  grace 
and  ease,  evidently  disturbed,  but  not  pursued 
by  the  hound,  and  so  absorbed  in  his  private 
meditations  that  he  failed  to  see  me,  though  I 
stood  transfixed  with  amazement  and  admiration, 
not  ten  yards  distant;  I  took  his  measure  at  a 
glance,  —  a  large  male,  with  dark  legs,  and  mas- 
sive tail  tipped  with  white,  —  a  most  magnificent 
creature ;  but  so  astonished  and  fascinated  was 
I  by  this  sudden  appearance  and  matchless 
beauty,  that  not  till  I  had  caught  the  last 
glimpse  of  him,  as  he  disappeared  over  a  knoll, 
did  I  awake  to  my  duty  as  a  sportsman,  and  real- 
ize what  an  opportunity  to  distinguish  myself  I 
had  unconsciously  let  slip.  I  clutched  my  gun, 
half  angrily,  as  if  it  was  to  blame,  and  went 
home  out  of  humor  with  myself  and  all  fox-kind. 
But  I  have  since  thought  better  of  the  experi- 
ence, and  concluded  that  I  bagged  the  game 
after  all,  the  best  part  of  it,  and  fleeced  Eeynard 
of  something  more  valuable  than  his  fur,  without 
his  knowledo'e. 

This   is   thoroughly   a   winter    sound,  —  this 
voice  of  the  hound  upon  the  mountain,  —  and 


56       SQUIKRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

one  that  is  music  to  many  ears.  The  long  trum- 
pet-Hke  bay,  heard  for  a  mile  or  more,  —  now 
faintly  back  to  the  deep  recesses  of  the  moun- 
tain,—  now  distinct,  but  still  faint,  as  the  hound 
comes  over  some  prominent  point  and  the  wind 
favors,  —  anon  entirely  lost  in  the  gully,  —  then 
breaking  out  again  much  nearer,  and  growing 
more  and  more  pronounced  as  the  dog  ap- 
proaches, till,  when  he  comes  around  the  brow 
of  the  mountain,  directly  above  you,  the  barking 
is  loud  and  sharp.  On  he  goes  along  the  north- 
ern spur,  his  voice  rising  and  sinking  as  the  wind 
and  the  lay  of  the  ground  modify  it,  till  lost  to 
hearing. 

The  fox  usually  keeps  half  a  mile  ahead,  regu- 
lating his  speed  by  that  of  the  hound,  occasion- 
ally pausing  a  moment  to  divert  himself  with  a 
mouse,  or  to  contemplate  the  landscape,  or  to 
listen  for  his  pursuer.  If  the  hound  press  him 
too  closely,  he  leads  ofP  from  mountain  to  moun- 
tain, and  so  generally  escapes  the  hunter ;  but  if 
the  pursuit  be  slow,  he  plays  about  some  ridge 
or  peak,  and  falls  a  prey,  though  not  an  easy 
one,  to  the  experienced  sportsman. 

A  most  spirited  and  exciting  chase  occurs  when 
the  farm-dog  gets  close  upon  one  in  the  open 
field,  as  sometimes  happens  in  the  early  morning. 
The  fox  relies  so  confidently  upon  his  superior 


THE  FOX  57 

speed,  that  I  imagine  he  half  tempts  the  dog  to 
the  race.  But  if  the  dog  be  a  smart  one,  and 
their  course  lies  down  hill,  over  smooth  ground, 
Reynard  must  put  his  best  foot  forward,  and 
then  sometimes  suffer  the  ignominy  of  being 
run  over  by  his  pursuer,  who,  however,  is  quite 
unable  to  pick  him  up,  owing  to  the  speed.  But 
when  they  mount  the  hill,  or  enter  the  woods, 
the  superior  nimbleness  and  agility  of  the  fox 
tell  at  once,  and  he  easily  leaves  the  dog  far  in 
his  rear.  For  a  cur  less  than  his  own  size  he 
manifests  little  fear,  especially  if  the  two  meet 
alone,  remote  from  the  house.  In  such  cases,  I 
have  seen  first  one  turn  tail,  then  the  other. 

One  of  the  most  notable  features  of  the  fox  is 
his  large  and  massive  tail.  Seen  running  on  the 
snow  at  a  distance,  his  tail  is  quite  as  conspicu- 
ous as  his  body ;  and,  so  far  from  appearing  a 
burden,  seems  to  contribute  to  his  lightness  and 
buoyancy.  It  softens  the  outline  of  his  move- 
ments, and  repeats  or  continues  to  the  eye  the 
ease  and  poise  of  his  carriage.  But,  pursued  by 
the  hound  on  a  wet,  thawy  day,  it  often  becomes 
so  heavy  and  bedraggled  as  to  prove  a  serious 
inconvenience,  and  compels  him  to  take  refuge 
in  his  den.  He  is  very  loath  to  do  this ;  both 
his  pride  and  the  traditions  of  his  race  stimulate 
him  to  run  it  out,  and  win  by  fair  superiority  of 


58       SQUIRRELS   AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

wind  and  speed  ;  and  only  a  wound  or  a  heavy 
and  moppish  tail  will  drive  him  to  avoid  the  issue 
in  this  manner. 

To  learn  his  surpassing  shrewdness  and  cun- 
ning, attempt  to  take  him  with  a  trap.  Rogue 
that  he  is,  he  always  suspects  some  trick,  and 
one  must  be  more  of  a  fox  than  he  is  himself  to 
overreach  him.  At  first  sight  it  would  appear 
easy  enough.  With  apparent  indifference  he 
crosses  your  path,  or  walks  in  your  footsteps  in 
the  field,  or  travels  along  the  beaten  highway,  or 
lingers  in  the  vicinity  of  stacks  and  remote  barns. 
Carry  the  carcass  of  a  pig,  or  a  fowl,  or  a  dog,  to 
a  distant  field  in  midwinter,  and  in  a  few  nights 
his  tracks  cover  the  snow  about  it. 

The  inexperienced  country  youth,  misled  by 
this  seeming  carelessness  of  Reynard,  suddenly 
conceives  a  project  to  enrich  himself  with  fur, 
and  wonders  that  the  idea  has  not  occurred  to 
him  before,  and  to  others.  I  knew  a  youthful 
yeoman  of  this  kind,  who  imagined  he  had  found 
a  mine  of  wealth  on  discovering  on  a  remote  side- 
hill,  between  two  woods,  a  dead  porker,  upon 
which  it  appeared  all  the  foxes  of  the  neighbor- 
hood did  nightly  banquet.  The  clouds  were 
burdened  with  snow ;  and  as  the  first  flakes  com- 
menced to  eddy  down,  he  set  out,  trap  and  broom 
in  hand,  already  counting  over  in  imagination  the 


THE  FOX  59 

silver  quarters  he  would  receive  for  his  first  fox- 
skin.  With  the  utmost  care,  and  with  a  palpi- 
tating heart,  he  removed  enough  of  the  trodden 
snow  to  allow  the  trap  to  sink  below  the  surface. 
Then,  carefully  sifting  the  light  element  over  it 
and  sweeping  his  tracks  full,  he  quickly  with- 
drew, laughing  exultingly  over  the  little  surprise 
he  had  prepared  for  the  cunning  rogue.  The 
elements  conspired  to  aid  him,  and  the  falling 
snow  rapidly  obliterated  all  vestiges  of  his  work. 
The  next  morning  at  dawn  he  was  on  his  way  to 
bring  in  his  fur.  The  snow  had  done  its  work 
effectually,  and,  he  believed,  had  kept  his  secret 
well.  Arrived  in  sight  of  the  locality,  he  strained 
his  vision  to  make  out  his  prize  lodged  against 
the  fence  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Approaching 
nearer,  the  surface  was  unbroken,  and  doubt 
usurped  the  place  of  certainty  in  his  mind.  A 
slight  mound  marked  the  site  of  the  porker,  but 
there  was  no  footprint  near  it.  Looking  up  the 
hill,  he  saw  where  Reynard  had  walked  leisurely 
down  toward  his  wonted  bacon  till  within  a  few 
yards  of  it,  when  he  had  wheeled,  and  with  pro- 
digious strides  disappeared  in  the  woods.  The 
young  trapper  saw  at  a  glance  what  a  comment 
this  was  upon  his  skill  in  the  art,  and,  indig- 
nantly exhuming  the  iron,  he  walked  home  with 
it,  the  stream  of  silver  quarters  suddenly  setting 
in  another  direction. 


60       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

The  successful  trapper  commences  in  the  fall, 
or  before  the  first  deep  snow.  In  a  field  not  too 
remote,  with  an  old  axe  he  cuts  a  small  place,  say 
ten  inches  by  fourteen,  in  the  frozen  ground,  and 
removes  the  earth  to  the  depth  of  three  or  four 
inches,  then  fills  the  cavity  with  dry  ashes,  in 
which  are  placed  bits  of  roasted  cheese.  Eeynard 
is  very  suspicious  at  first,  and  gives  the  place  a 
wide  berth.  It  looks  like  design,  and  he  will  see 
how  the  thing  behaves  before  he  approaches  too 
near.  But  the  cheese  is  savory  and  the  cold  se- 
vere. He  ventures  a  little  closer  every  night, 
until  he  can  reach  and  pick  a  piece  from  the 
surface.  Emboldened  by  success,  like  other  mor- 
tals, he  presently  digs  freely  among  the  ashes, 
and,  finding  a  fresh  supply  of  the  delectable 
morsels  every  night,  is  soon  thrown  off  his 
guard  and  his  suspicions  quite  lulled.  After  a 
week  of  baiting  in  this  manner,  and  on  the  eve 
of  a  light  fall  of  snow,  the  trapper  carefully  con- 
ceals his  trap  in  the  bed,  first  smoking  it  thor- 
oughly with  hemlock  boughs  to  kill  or  neutralize 
all  smell  of  the  iron.  If  the  weather  favors  and 
the  proper  precautions  have  been  taken,  he  may 
succeed,  though  the  chances  are  still  greatly 
against  him. 

Reynard  is  usually  caught  very  lightly,  seldom 
more  than  the  ends  of  his  toes  being  between  the 


THE   FOX  61 

jaws.  He  sometimes  works  so  cautiously  as  to 
spring  the  trap  without  injury  even  to  his  toes, 
or  may  remove  the  cheese  night  after  night  with- 
out even  springing  it.  I  knew  an  old  trapper 
who,  on  finding  himself  outwitted  in  this  man- 
ner, tied  a  bit  of  cheese  to  the  pan,  and  next 
morning  had  poor  Reynard  by  the  jaw.  The 
trap  is  not  fastened,  but  only  incumbered  with 
a  clog,  and  is  all  the  more  sure  in  its  hold  by 
yielding  to  every  effort  of  the  animal  to  extricate 
himself. 

When  Reynard  sees  his  captor  approaching, 
he  would  fain  drop  into  a  mouse-hole  to  render 
himself  invisible.  He  crouches  to  the  ground 
and  remains  perfectly  motionless  until  he  per- 
ceives himself  discovered,  when  he  makes  one 
desperate  and  final  effort  to  escape,  but  ceases 
all  struggling  as  you  come  up,  and  behaves  in  a 
manner  that  stamps  him  a  very  timid  warrior,  — 
cowering  to  the  earth  with  a  mingled  look  of 
shame,  guilt,  and  humiliation.  A  young  farmer 
told  me  of  tracing  one  with  his  trap  to  the  border 
of  a  wood,  wdiere  he  discovered  the  cunning  rogue 
trying  to  hide  by  embracing  a  small  tree.  Most 
animals,  w^hen  taken  in  a  trap,  show  fight ;  but 
Reynard  has  more  faith  in  the  nimbleness  of  his 
feet  than  in  the  terror  of  his  teeth. 

I  once  spent  a  summer  month  in  a  mountain- 


62       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

ous  district  in  the  State  of  New  York,  where, 
from  its  earliest  settlement,  the  red  fox  has  been 
the  standing  prize  for  skill  in  the  use  of  the  trap 
and  gun.  At  the  house  where  I  was  stopping 
were  two  foxhounds,  and  a  neighbor  half  a  mile 
distant  had  a  third.  There  were  many  others  in 
the  township,  and  in  season  they  were  well  em- 
ployed, too ;  but  the  three  spoken  of,  attended 
by  their  owners,  held  high  carnival  on  the  moun- 
tains in  the  immediate  vicinity.  And  many  were 
the  foxes  that,  winter  after  winter,  fell  before 
them,  twenty-five  having  been  shot,  the  season 
before  my  visit,  on  one  small  range  alone.  And 
yet  the  foxes  were  apparently  never  more  abun- 
dant than  they  were  that  summer,  and  never 
bolder,  coming  at  night  within  a  few  rods  of  the 
house  and  of  the  unchained  alert  hounds,  and 
making  havoc  among  the  poultry. 

One  morning  a  large,  fat  goose  was  found 
minus  her  head  and  otherwise  mangled.  Both 
hounds  had  disappeared,  and,  as  they  did  not 
come  back  till  near  night,  it  was  inferred  that 
they  had  cut  short  Reynard's  repast,  and  given 
him  a  good  chase  into  the  bargain.  But  next 
night  he  was  back  again,  and  this  time  got  safely 
off  with  the  goose.  A  couple  of  nights  after  he 
must  have  come  with  recruits,  for  next  morning 
three  large  goslings  were  reported  missing.    The 


THE  FOX  63 

silly  geese  now  got  it  through  their  noddles  that 
there  was  danger  about^  and  every  night  there- 
after came  close  up  to  the  house  to  roost. 

A  brood  of  turkeys,  the  old  one  tied  to  a  tree 
a  few  rods  to  the  rear  of  the  house,  were  the 
next  objects  of  attack.  The  predaceous  rascal 
came,  as  usual,  in  the  latter  half  of  the  night.  I 
happened  to  be  awake,  and  heard  the  helpless 
turkey  cry  "  Quit,  quit,"  with  great  emphasis. 
Another  sleeper,  on  the  floor  above  me,  who,  it 
seems,  had  been  sleeping  with  one  ear  awake  for 
several  nights  in  apprehension  for  the  safety  of 
his  turkeys,  heard  the  sound  also,  and  instantly 
divined  its  cause.  I  heard  the  window  open  and 
a  voice  summon  the  dogs.  A  loud  bellow  was 
the  response,  which  caused  Reynard  to  take  him- 
self off  in  a  hurry.  A  moment  more,  and  the 
mother  turkey  would  have  shared  the  fate  of  the 
geese.  There  she  lay  at  the  end  of  her  tether, 
with  extended  wings,  bitten  and  rumpled.  The 
young  ones  roosted  in  a  row  on  the  fence  near 
by,  and  had  taken  flight  on  the  first  alarm. 

Turkeys,  retaining  many  of  their  wild  instincts, 
are  less  easily  captured  by  the  fox  than  any  other 
of  our  domestic  fowls.  On  the  slightest  show  of 
danger  they  take  to  wing,  and  it  is  not  unusual, 
in  the  locality  of  which  I  speak,  to  find  them 
in  the  morning  perched  in  the  most  unwonted 


64       SQUIRRELS   AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

places,  as  on  the  peak  of  the  barn  or  hay-shed, 
or  on  the  tops  of  the  apple-trees,  their  tails 
spread  and  their  manners  showing  much  excite- 
ment. Perchance  one  turkey  is  minus  her  tail, 
the  fox  having  succeeded  in  getting  only  a 
mouthful  of  quills. 

As  the  brood  grows  and  their  wings  develop, 
they  wander  far  from  the  house  in  quest  of  grass- 
hoppers. At  such  times  they  are  all  watchful- 
ness and  suspicion.  Crossing  the  fields  one  day, 
attended  by  a  dog  that  much  resembled  a  fox,  I 
came  suddenly  upon  a  brood  about  one  third 
grown,  which  were  feeding  in  a  pasture  just  be- 
yond a  wood.  It  so  happened  that  they  caught 
sight  of  the  dog  without  seeing  me,  when  in- 
stantly, with  the  celerity  of  wild  game,  they 
launched  into  the  air,  and,  while  the  old  one 
perched  upon  a  treetop,  as  if  to  keep  an  eye  on 
the  supposed  enemy,  the  young  went  saihng  over 
the  trees  toward  home. 

The  two  hounds  before  referred  to,  accom- 
panied by  a  cur-dog,  whose  business  it  was  to 
mind  the  farm,  but  who  took  as  much  delight  in 
running  away  from  prosy  duty  as  if  he  had  been 
a  schoolboy,  would  frequently  steal  off  and  have 
a  good  hunt  all  by  themselves,  just  for  the  fun 
of  the  thing,  I  suppose.  I  more  than  half  sus- 
pect that  it  was  as  a  kind  of  taunt  or  retaliation 


THE  FOX  65 

that  Reynard  came  and  took  the  geese  from  under 
their  very  noses.  One  morning  they  went  off  and 
stayed  till  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day ;  they 
ran  the  fox  all  day  and  all  night,  the  hounds 
baying  at  every  jump,  the  cur-dog  silent  and 
tenacious.  When  the  trio  returned  they  came 
dragging  themselves  along,  stiff,  foot-sore,  gaunt, 
and  hungry.  For  a  day  or  two  afterward  they 
lay  about  the  kennels,  seeming  to  dread  nothing 
so  much  as  the  having  to  move.  The  stolen  hunt 
was  their  "  spree,"  and  of  course  they  must  take 
time  to  get  over  it. 

Some  old  hunters  think  the  fox  enjoys  the 
chase  as  much  as  the  hound,  especially  when  the 
latter  runs  slowly,  as  the  best  hounds  do.  The 
fox  will  wait  for  the  hound,  will  sit  down  and 
listen,  or  play  about,  crossing  and  recrossing  and 
doubling  upon  his  track,  as  if  enjoying  a  mis- 
chievous consciousness  of  the  perplexity  he  would 
presently  cause  his  pursuer.  It  is  evident,  how- 
ever, that  the  fox  does  not  always  have  his  share 
of  the  fun :  before  a  swift  dog,  or  in  a  deep 
snow,  or  on  a  wet  day  when  his  tail  gets  heavy, 
he  must  put  his  best  foot  forward.  As  a  last 
resort  he  "  holes  up."  Sometimes  he  resorts  to 
numerous  devices  to  mislead  and  escape  the  dog 
altogether.  He  will  walk  in  the  bed  of  a  small" 
creek,  or  on  a  rail-fence.    I  heard  of  an  instance 


66       SQUIRRELS  ANB  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

of  a  fox,  hard  and  long  pressed,  that  took  to 
a  rail-fence,  and,  after  walking  some  distance, 
made  a  leap  to  one  side  to  a  hollow  stump,  in 
the  cavity  of  which  he  snugly  stowed  himself. 
The  ruse  succeeded,  and  the  dogs  lost  the  trail; 
but  the  hunter,  coming  up,  passed  by  chance 
near  the  stump,  when  out  bounded  the  fox,  his 
cunning  availing  him  less  than  he  deserved.  On 
another  occasion  the  fox  took  to  the  public  road, 
and  stepped  with  great  care  and  precision  into  a 
sleigh-track.  The  hard,  polished  snow  took  no 
imprint  of  the  light  foot,  and  the  scent  was  no 
doubt  less  than  it  would  have  been  on  a  rougher 
surface.  Maybe,  also,  the  rogue  had  considered 
the  chances  of  another  sleigh  coming  along,  be- 
fore the  hound,  and  obliterating  the  trail  entirely. 
Audubon  tells  of  a  fox,  which,  when  started 
by  the  hounds,  always  managed  to  elude  them  at 
a  certain  point.  Finally  the  hunter  concealed 
himself  in  the  locality,  to  discover,  if  possible, 
the  trick.  Presently  along  came  the  fox,  and, 
making  a  leap  to  one  side,  ran  up  the  trunk  of 
a  fallen  tree  which  had  lodged  some  feet  from 
the  ground,  and  concealed  himself  in  the  top. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  hounds  came  up,  and  in 
their  eagerness  passed  some  distance  beyond  the 
point,  and  then  went  still  farther,  looking  for 
the  lost  trail.      Then  the  fox  hastened   down. 


THE   FOX  67 

and,  taking  his  back-track,  fooled  the  dogs  com- 
pletely. 

I  was  told  of  a  silver-gray  fox  in  northern 
New  York,  which,  when  pursued  by  the  hounds, 
would  run  till  it  had  hunted  up  another  fox, 
or  the  fresh  trail  of  one,  when  it  would  so 
manoeuvre  that  the  hound  would  invariably  be 
switched  off  on  the  second  track. 

In  cold,  dry  weather  the  fox  will  sometimes 
elude  the  hound,  at  least  delay  him  much,  by 
taking  to  a  bare,  ploughed  field.  The  hard,  dry 
earth  seems  not  to  retain  a  particle  of  the  scent, 
and  the  hound  gives  a  loud,  long,  peculiar  bark, 
to  signify  he  has  trouble.  It  is  now  his  turn  to 
show  his  wit,  which  he  often  does  by  passing 
completely  around  the  field,  and  resuming  the 
trail  again  where  it  crosses  the  fence  or  a  strip 
of  snow. 

The  fact  that  any  dry,  hard  surface  is  unfa- 
vorable to  the  hound  suggests,  in  a  measure,  the 
explanation  of  the  wonderful  faculty  that  all  dogs 
in  a  degree  possess  of  tracking  an  animal  by  the 
scent  of  the  foot  alone.  Did  you  ever  think 
why  a  dog's  nose  is  always  wet  ?  Examine  the 
nose  of  a  fox-hound,  for  instance ;  how  very 
moist  and  sensitive  !  Cause  this  moisture  to  dry 
up,  and  the  dog  would  be  as  powerless  to  track 
an  animal  as  you  are !    The  nose  of  the  cat,  you 


68       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

may  observe,  is  but  a  little  moist,  and,  as  you 
know,  her  sense  of  smell  is  far  inferior  to  that 
of  the  dog.  Moisten  your  own  nostrils  and  lips, 
and  this  sense  is  plainly  sharpened.  The  sweat 
of  a  dog's  nose,  therefore,  is  no  doubt  a  vital 
element  in  its  power,  and,  without  taking  a  very 
long  logical  stride,  we  may  infer  how  a  damp, 
rough  surface  aids  him  in  tracking  game. 

A  still  hunt  rarely  brings  you  in  sight  of  a 
fox,  as  his  ears  are  much  sharper  than  yours, 
and  his  tread  much  lighter.  But  if  the  fox  is 
mousing  in  the  fields,  and  you  discover  him  be- 
fore he  does  you,  you  may,  the  wind  favoring, 
call  him  within  a  few  paces  of  you.  Secrete 
yourself  behind  the  fence,  or  some  other  object, 
and  squeak  as  nearly  like  a  mouse  as  possible. 
Reynard  will  hear  the  sound  at  an  incredible 
distance.  Pricking  up  his  ears,  he  gets  the 
direction,  and  comes  trotting  along  as  unsuspi- 
ciously as  can  be.  I  have  never  had  an  op- 
portunity to  try  the  experiment,  but  I  know  per- 
fectly reliable  persons  who  have.  One  man,  in  the 
pasture  getting  his  cows,  called  a  fox  which  was 
too  busy  mousing  to  get  the  first  sight,  till  it 
jumped  upon  the  wall  just  over  where  he  sat 
secreted.  He  then  sprang  up,  giving  a  loud 
whoop  at  the  same  time,  and  the  fox,  I  suspect, 
came  as  near  being  frightened  out  of  his  skin  as 
a  fox  ever  was. 


THE  FOX  69 

I  have  never  been  able  to  see  clearly  why 
the  mother  fox  generally  selects  a  burrow  or 
hole  in  the  open  field  in  which  to  have  her 
young,  except  it  be,  as  some  hunters  maintain, 
for  better  security.  The  young  foxes  are  wont 
to  come  out  on  a  warm  day,  and  play  like  pup- 
pies in  front  of  the  den.  The  view  being  un- 
obstructed on  all  sides  by  trees  or  bushes,  in  the 
cover  of  which  danger  might  approach,  they  are 
less  liable  to  surprise  and  capture.  On  the 
slightest  sound  they  disappear  in  the  hole. 
Those  who  have  watched  the  gambols  of  the 
young  foxes  speak  of  them  as  very  amusing, 
even  more  arch  and  playful  than  those  of  kit- 
tens, while  a  spirit  profoundly  wise  and  cunning 
seems  to  look  out  of  their  young  eyes.  The 
parent  fox  can  never  be  caught  in  the  den  with 
them,  but  is  hovering  near  the  woods,  which  are 
always  at  hand,  and  by  her  warning  cry  or  bark 
telling  them  when  to  be  on  their  guard.  She 
usually  has  at  least  three  dens,  at  no  great  dis- 
tance apart,  and  moves  stealthily  in  the  night 
with  her  charge  from  one  to  the  other,  so  as 
to  mislead  her  enemies.  Many  a  party  of  boys, 
and  of  men,  too,  discovering  the  whereabouts  of 
a  litter,  have  gone  with  shovels  and  picks,  and, 
after  digging  away  vigorously  for  several  hours, 
have  found  only  an  empty  hole  for  their  pains. 


70       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

The  old  fox,  finding  her  secret  had  been  found 
out,  had  waited  for  darkness,  in  the  cover  of 
which  to  transfer  her  household  to  new  quar- 
ters ;  or  else  some  old  fox-hunter,  jealous  of  the 
preservation  of  his  game,  and  getting  word  of 
the  intended  destruction  of  the  litter,  had  gone 
at  dusk  the  night  before,  and  made  some  dis- 
turbance about  the  den,  perhaps  flashed  some 
powder  in  its  mouth,  —  a  hint  which  the  shrewd 
animal  knew  how  to  interpret. 

The  fox  nearly  always  takes  his  nap  during 
the  day  in  the  open  fields,  along  the  sides  of  the 
ridges,  or  under  the  mountain,  where  he  can  look 
down  upon  the  busy  farms  beneath  and  hear  their 
many  sounds,  the  barking  of  dogs,  the  lowing  of 
cattle,  the  cackling  of  hens,  the  voices  of  men 
and  boys,  or  the  sound  of  travel  upon  the  high- 
way. It  is  on  that  side,  too,  that  he  keeps 
the  sharpest  lookout,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
hunter  above  and  behind  him  is  always  a  sur- 
prise. 

Foxes,  unlike  wolves,  never  go  in  packs  or 
companies^  but  hunt  singly.  Many  of  the  ways 
and  manners  of  the  fox,  when  tamed,  are  like  the 
dog's.  I  once  saw  a  young  red  fox  exposed  for 
sale  in  the  market  in  Washington.  A  colored 
man  had  him,  and  said  he  had  caught  him  out 
in  Virginia.     He  led  him  by  a  small  chain,  as 


THE  FOX  71 

he  would  a  puppy,  and  the  mnocent  young  ras- 
cal would  lie  on  his  side  and  bask  and  sleep  in 
the  sunshine,  amid  all  the  noise  and  chaffering 
around  him,  precisely  like  a  dog.  He  was  about 
the  size  of  a  full-grown  cat,  and  there  was  a  be- 
witching beauty  about  him  that  I  could  hardly 
resist.  On  another  occasion,  I  saw  a  gray  fox, 
about  two  thirds  grown,  playing  with  a  dog, 
about  the  same  size,  and  by  nothing  in  the  man- 
ners of  either  could  you  tell  which  was  the  dog 
and  which  was  the  fox. 


VIII 

THE    WEASEL 

My  most  interesting  note  of  the  season  of 
1893  relates  to  a  weasel.  One  day  in  early  No- 
vember, my  boy  and  I  were  sitting  on  a  rock  at 
the  edge  of  a  tamarack  swamp  in  the  woods,  hop- 
ing to  get  a  glimpse  of  some  grouse  which  we 
knew  were  in  the  habit  of  feeding  in  the  swamp. 
We  had  not  sat  there  very  long  before  we  heard 
a  slight  rustling  in  the  leaves  below  us,  which  we 
at  once  fancied  was  made  by  the  cautious  tread 
of  a  grouse.  (We  had  no  gun.)  Presently, 
through  the  thick  brushy  growth,  we  caught 
sight  of  a  small  animal  running  along,  that  we 
at  first  took  for  a  red  squirrel.  A  moment  more, 
and  it  came  into  full  view  but  a  few  yards  from 
us,  and  we  saw  that  it  was  a  weasel.  A  second 
glance  showed  that  it  carried  something  in  its 
mouth  which,  as  it  drew  near,  we  saw  was  a 
mouse  or  a  mole  of  some  sort.  The  weasel  ran 
nimbly  along,  now  the  length  of  a  decayed  log, 
then  over  stones  and  branches,  pausing  a  mo- 
ment  every   three    or   four   yards,    and   passed 


THE   WEASEL  73 

within  twenty  feet  of  us,  and  disappeared  be- 
hind some  rocks  on  the  bank  at  the  edge  of  the 
swamp.  "He  is  carrying  food  into  his  den/'  I 
said;  "let  us  watch  him."  In  four  or  five 
minutes  he  reappeared^  coming  back  over  the 
course  along  which  he  had  just  passed,  running 
over  and  under  the  same  stones  and  down  the 
same  decayed  log,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight  in 
the  swamp.  We  had  not  moved,  and  evidently 
he  had  not  noticed  us.  After  about  six  minutes 
we  heard  the  same  rustle  as  at  first,  and  in  a 
moment  saw  the  weasel  coming  back  with  another 
mouse  in  his  mouth.  He  kept  to  his  former  route 
as  if  chained  to  it,  making  the  same  pauses  and 
gestures,  and  repeating  exactly  his  former  move- 
ments. He  disappeared  on  our  left  as  before, 
and,  after  a  few  moments'  delay,  reemerged  and 
took  his  course  down  into  the  swamp  again.  We 
waited  about  the  same  length  of  time  as  before, 
when  back  he  came  with  another  mouse.  He 
evidently  had  a  big  crop  of  mice  down  there 
amid  the  bogs  and  bushes,  and  he  was  gather- 
ing his  harvest  in  very  industriously.  We  be- 
came curious  to  see  exactly  where  his  den  was, 
and  so  walked  around  where  he  had  seemed  to 
disappear  each  time,  and  waited.  He  was  as 
punctual  as  usual,  and  was  back  with  his  game 
exactly  on  time.    It  happened  that  we  had  stopped 


74       SQUIRRELS   AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

within  two  paces  of  his  hole,  so  that,  as  he 
approached  it,  he  evidently  discovered  us.  He 
paused,  looked  steadily  at  us,  and  then,  without 
any  sign  of  fear,  entered  his  den.  The  entrance 
was  not  under  the  rocks  as  we  had  expected  to 
find  it,  but  was  in  the  bank  a  few  feet  beyond 
them.  We  remained  motionless  for  some  time, 
but  he  did  not  reappear.  Our  presence  had  made 
him  suspicious,  and  he  was  going  to  wait  a  while. 
Then  I  removed  some  dry  leaves  and  exposed  his 
doorway,  a  small,  round  hole,  hardly  as  large  as 
the  chipmunk  makes,  going  straight  down  into 
the  ground.  We  had  a  lively  curiosity  to  get  a 
peep  into  his  larder.  If  he  had  been  carrying  in 
mice  at  this  rate  very  long,  his  cellars  must  be 
packed  with  them.  With  a  sharp  stick  I  began 
digging  into  the  red  clayey  soil,  but  soon  en- 
countered so  many  roots  from  near  trees  that  I 
gave  it  up,  deciding  to  return  next  day  with  a 
mattock.  So  I  repaired  the  damages  I  had  done 
as  well  as  I  could,  replacing  the  leaves,  and  we 
moved  off. 

The  next  day,  which  was  mild  and  still,  I 
came  back  prepared,  as  I  thought,  to  unearth  the 
weasel  and  his  treasures.  I  sat  down  where  we 
had  sat  the  day  before  and  awaited  develop- 
ments. I  was  curious  to  know  if  the  weasel  was 
still  carrying  in  his  harvest.     I  had  sat  but  a 


t-3 


THE  WEASEL  75 

few  minutes  when  I  heard  again  the  rustle  in 
the  dry  leaves,  and  saw  the  weasel  coming  home 
with  another  mouse.  I  observed  him  till  he  had 
made  three  trips ;  about  every  six  or  seven  min- 
utes, I  calculated,  he  brought  in  a  mouse.  Then 
I  went  and  stood  near  his  hole.  This  time  he  had 
a  fat  meadow-mouse.  He  laid  it  down  near  the 
entrance,  went  in  and  turned  around,  and  reached 
out  and  drew  the  mouse  in  after  him.  That 
store  of  mice  I  am  bound  to  see,  I  thought,  and 
then  fell  to  with  the  heavy  mattock.  I  followed 
the  hole  down  about  two  feet,  when  it  turned 
to  the  north.  I  kept  the  clue  by  thrusting  into 
the  passage  slender  twigs ;  these  it  was  easy  to 
follow.  Two  or  three  feet  more  and  the  hole 
branched,  one  part  going  west,  the  other  north- 
east. I  followed  the  west  one  a  few  feet  till  it 
branched.  Then  I  turned  to  the  easterly  tunnel, 
and  pursued  it  till  it  branched.  I  followed  one 
of  these  ways  till  it  divided.  I  began  to  be  em- 
barrassed and  hindered  by  the  accumulations  of 
loose  soil.  Evidently  this  weasel  had  foreseen  just 
such  an  assault  upon  his  castle  as  I  was  making, 
and  had  planned  it  accordingly.  He  was  not 
to  be  caught  napping.  I  found  several  enlarge- 
ments in  the  various  tunnels,  breathing  spaces, 
or  spaces  to  turn  around  in,  or  to  meet  and  chat 
with  a  companion,  but  nothing  that  looked  like 


76       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

a  terminus,  a  permanent  living-room.  I  tried 
removing  the  soil  a  couple  of  paces  away  with 
the  mattock,  but  found  it  slow  work.  I  was 
getting  warm  and  tired,  and  my  task  was  appar- 
ently only  just  begun.  The  farther  I  dug,  the 
more  numerous  and  intricate  became  the  pas- 
sages. I  concluded  to  stop,  and  come  again  the 
next  day,  armed  with  a  shovel  in  addition  to  the 
mattock. 

Accordingly,  I  came  back  on  the  morrow,  and 
fell  to  work  vigorously.  I  soon  had  quite  a 
large  excavation  ;  I  found  the  bank  a  labyrinth 
of  passages,  with  here  and  there  a  large  cham- 
ber. One  of  the  latter  I  struck  only  six  inches 
under  the  surface,  by  making  a  fresh  breach  a 
few  feet  away. 

While  I  was  leaning  upon  my  shovel-handle 
and  recovering  my  breath,  I  heard  some  light- 
footed  creature  tripping  over  the  leaves  above 
me  just  out  of  view,  which  I  fancied  might  be  a 
squirrel.  Presently  I  heard  the  bay  of  a  hound 
and  the  yelp  of  a  cur,  and  then  knew  that  a 
rabbit  had  passed  near  me.  The  dogs  came 
hurrying  after,  with  a  great  rumpus,  and  then 
presently  the  hunters  followed.  The  dogs  re- 
mained barking  not  many  rods  south  of  me  on 
the  edge  of  the  swamp,  and  I  knew  the  rabbit 
had  run  to  hole.     For  half  an  hour  or  more  I 


THE  WEASEL  77 

heard  the  hunters  at  work  there,  digging  their 
game  out ;  then  they  came  along  and  discovered 
me  at  my  work.  They  proved  to  be  an  old  trap- 
per and  woodsman  and  his  son.  I  told  them  what 
I  was  in  quest  of.  "  A  mountain  weasel/'  said 
the  old  man.  "  Seven  or  eight  years  ago  I  used 
to  set  deadfalls  for  rabbits  just  over  there,  and 
the  game  was  always  partly  eaten  up.  It  must 
have  been  this  weasel  that  visited  my  traps." 
So  my  game  was  evidently  an  old  resident  of  the 
place.  This  swamp,  maybe,  had  been  his  hunt- 
ing-ground for  many  years,  and  he  had  added 
another  hall  to  his  dwelling  each  year.  After 
further  digging,  I  struck  at  least  one  of  his  ban- 
queting halls,  a  cavity  about  the  size  of  one's 
hat,  arched  over  by  a  network  of  fine  tree-roots. 
The  occupant  evidently  lodged  or  rested  here 
also.  There  w^as  a  warm,  dry  nest,  made  of 
leaves  and  the  fur  of  mice  and  moles.  I  took 
out  two  or  three  handfuls.  In  finding  this 
chamber  I  had  followed  one  of  the  tunnels 
around  till  it  brought  me  within  a  foot  of  the 
original  entrance.  A  few  inches  to  one  side  of 
this  cavity  there  was  what  I  took  to  be  a  back 
alley  where  the  weasel  threw  his  waste  ;  there 
were  large  masses  of  wet,  decaying  fur  here,  and 
fur  pellets  such  as  are  regurgitated  by  hawks  and 
owls.     In  the  nest  there  was  the  tail  of  a  flying 


78       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

squirrel,  showing  that  the  weasel  sometimes  had 
this  game  for  supper  or  dinner. 

I  continued  my  digging  with  renewed  energy  ; 
I  should  yet  find  the  grand  depot  where  all 
these  passages  centred  ;  but  the  farther  I  exca- 
vated, the  more  complex  and  bafB.ing  the  prob- 
lem became  ;  the  ground  was  honeycombed  with 
passages.  What  enemy  has  this  weasel,  I  said 
to  myself,  that  he  should  provide  so  many  ways 
of  escape,  that  he  should  have  a  back  door  at 
every  turn  ?  To  corner  him  would  be  impossi- 
ble ;  to  be  lost  in  his  fortress  was  like  being 
lost  in  Mammoth  Cave.  How  he  could  bewilder 
his  pursuer  by  appearing  now  at  this  door,  now 
at  that ;  now  mocking  him  from  the  attic,  now 
defying  him  from  the  cellar !  So  far,  I  had  dis- 
covered but  one  entrance ;  but  some  of  the 
chambers  were  so  near  the  surface  that  it  looked 
as  if  the  planner  had  calculated  upon  an  emer- 
gency when  he  might  want  to  reach  daylight 
quickly  in  a  new  place. 

Finally  I  paused,  rested  upon  my  shovel  a 
while,  eased  my  aching  back  upon  the  ground, 
and  then  gave  it  up,  feeling  as  I  never  had  be- 
fore the  force  of  the  old  saying,  that  you  cannot 
catch  a  weasel  asleep.  I  had  made  an  ugly  hole 
in  the  bank,  had  handled  over  two  or  three  times 
a  ton  or  more  of  earth,  and  was  apparently  no 


THE  WEASEL  79 

nearer  the  weasel  and  his  store  of  mice  than 
when  I  began. 

Then  I  regretted  that  I  had  broken  into  his 
castle  at  all;  that  I  had  not  contented  myself 
with  coming  day  after  day  and  counting  his 
mice  as  he  carried  them  in,  and  continued  my  ob- 
servation upon  him  each  succeeding  year.  Now 
the  rent  in  his  fortress  could  not  be  repaired, 
and  he  would  doubtless  move  away,  as  he  most 
certainly  did,  for  his  doors,  which  I  had  closed 
with  soil,  remained  unopened  after  winter  had  set 
in. 

But  little  seems  known  about  the  intimate  pri- 
vate lives  of  any  of  our  lesser  wild  creatures.  It 
was  news  to  me  that  any  of  the  weasels  lived  in 
dens  in  this  way,  and  that  they  stored  up  provi- 
sion against  a  day  of  need.  This  species  was 
probably  the  little  ermine,  eight  or  nine  inches 
long,  with  tail  about  five  inches.  It  was  still  in 
its  summer  dress  of  dark  chestnut-brown  above 
and  whitish  below. 

It  was  a  mystery  where  the  creature  had  put 
the  earth  which  it  must  have  removed  in  digging 
its  den ;  not  a  grain  was  to  be  seen  anywhere, 
and  yet  a  bushel  or  more  must  have  been  taken 
out.  Externally,  there  was  not  the  slightest  sign 
of  that  curious  habitation  there  under  the  ground. 
The  entrance  was  hidden  beneath  dry  leaves,  and 


80       SQUIRRELS  AXD  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

was  surrounded  by  little  passages  and  flourishes 
between  the  leaves  and  the  ground.  If  any  of 
my  readers  find  a  weasel's  den,  I  hope  they  will 
be  wiser  than  I  was,  and  observe  his  goings  and 
comings  without  disturbing  his  habitation. 

A  few  years  later  I  had  another  adventure 
with  a  weasel  that  had  its  den  in  a  bank  on  the 
margin  of  a  muck  swamp  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood. We  had  cleared  and  drained  and  redeemed 
the  swamp  and  made  it  into  a  garden,  and  I  had 
built  me  a  lodge  there.  The  weasel's  hunting- 
grounds,  where  doubtless  he  had  been  wont  to 
gather  his  supply  of  mice,  had  been  destroyed, 
and  he  had  "  got  even  "  with  me  by  preying 
upon  my  young  chickens.  Night  after  night 
the  number  of  chickens  grew  less,  till  one  day 
we  chanced  to  see  the  creature  boldly  chasing 
one  of  the  larger  fowls  along  the  road  near  the 
henhouse.  His  career  was  cut  short  then  and 
there  by  one  of  the  men.  We  were  then  igno- 
rant of  the  den  in  the  bank  a  few  yards  away. 
The  next  season  my  chickens  were  preyed  upon 
again ;  they  were  killed  upon  the  roost,  and 
their  half-eaten  bodies  were  found  under  the 
floor.  One  nig^ht  I  was  awakened  about  mid- 
night  by  that  loud,  desperate  cry  which  a  barn 
fowl  gives  when  suddenly  seized  upon  its  roost. 
Was  I  dreaming,  or  was  that  a  cry  of  murder 


THE  WEASEL  81 

from  my  chickens?  I  seized  my  lantern,  and 
with  my  dog  rushed  out  to  where  a  pair  of 
nearly  grown  roosters  passed  the  nights  upon  a 
low  stump.  They  were  both  gone,  and  the  action 
of  the  dog  betrayed  the  fresh  scent  of  some  ani- 
mal. But  we  could  get  no  clue  to  the  chickens 
or  their  enemy.  I  felt  sure  that  only  one  of  the 
fowls  had  been  seized,  and  that  the  other  had 
dashed  away  wildly  in  the  darkness,  which  proved 
to  be  the  case.  The  dead  chicken  was  there 
under  the  edge  of  the  stump,  where  I  found  it 
in  the  morning,  and  its  companion  came  forth 
unhurt  during  the  day.  Thenceforth  the  chick- 
ens, big  and  little,  were  all  shut  up  in  the  hen- 
house at  night.  On  the  third  day  the  appetite 
of  the  weasel  was  keen  again,  and  it  boldly  gave 
chase  to  a  chicken  before  our  eyes.  I  was  stand- 
ing in  my  porch  with  my  dog,  talking  with  my 
neighbor  and  his  wife,  who,  with  their  dog,  were 
standing  in  the  road  a  few  yards  in  front  of  me. 
A  chicken  suddenly  screamed  in  the  bushes  up 
behind  the  rocks  just  beyond  my  friends.  Then 
it  came  rushing  down  over  the  rocks  past  them, 
flying  and  screaming,  closely  pursued  by  a  long, 
slim  red  animal,  that  seemed  to  slide  over  the 
rocks  like  a  serpent.  Its  legs  were  so  short  that 
one  saw  only  the  swift,  gliding  motion  of  its 
body.     Across  the  road  into  the  garden,  within 


82       SQUIRRELS  A:N'D  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

a  yard  of  my  friends,  went  the  pursued  and  the 
pursuer,  and  into  the  garden  rushed  I  and  my 
dog.  The  weasel  seized  the  chicken  by  the  wing, 
and  was  being  dragged  along  by  the  latter  in  its 
effort  to  escape,  when  I  arrived  upon  the  scene. 
With  a  savage  glee  I  had  not  felt  for  many  a 
day,  I  planted  my  foot  upon  the  weasel.  The 
soft  muck  underneath  yielded,  and  I  held  him 
without  hurting  him.  He  let  go  his  hold  upon 
the  chicken  and  seized  the  sole  of  my  shoe  in  his 
teeth.  Then  I  reached  down  and  gripped  him 
with  my  thumb  and  forefinger  just  back  of  the 
ears,  and  lifted  him  up,  and  looked  his  impotent 
rage  in  the  face.  What  gleaming  eyes,  what 
an  array  of  threatening  teeth,  what  reaching  of 
vicious  claws,  what  a  wriggling  and  convulsed 
body  !  But  I  held  him  firmly.  He  could  only 
scratch  my  hand  and  dart  fire  from  his  electric, 
bead-like  eyes.  In  the  mean  time  my  dog  was 
bounding  up,  begging  to  be  allowed  to  have  his 
way  with  the  weasel.  But  I  knew  what  he  did 
not :  I  knew  that  in  anything  like  a  fair  encoun- 
ter the  weasel  would  get  the  first  hold,  would 
draw  the  first  blood,  and  hence  probably  effect 
his  escape.  So  I  carried  the  animal,  writhing 
and  scratching,  to  a  place  in  the  road  removed 
from  any  near  cover,  and  threw  him  violently 
upon   the    ground,   hoping   thereby    so  to  stun 


THE  WEASEL  83 

and  bewilder  him  that  the  terrier  could  rush  in 
and  crush  him  before  he  recovered  his  wits.  But 
I  had  miscalculated;  the  blow  did  indeed  stun 
and  confuse  him,  but  he  was  still  too  quick  for 
the  dog,  and  had  him  by  the  lip  like  an  electric 
trap.  Nip  lifted  up  his  head  and  swung  the 
weasel  violently  about  in  the  air,  trying  to  shake 
him  off,  uttering  a  cry  of  rage  and  pain,  but  did 
not  succeed  in  loosening  the  animal's  hold  for 
some  moments.  When  he  had  done  so,  and  at- 
tempted to  seize  him  a  second  time,  the  weasel 
was  first  again,  but  quickly  released  his  hold  and 
darted  about  this  way  and  that,  seeking  cover. 
Three  or  four  times  the  dog  was  upon  him,  but 
found  him  each  time  too  hot  to  be  held.  Seeing 
that  the  creature  was  likely  to  escape,  I  set  my 
foot  upon  him  again,  and  made  a  finish  of  him. 
The  weasel  is  the  boldest  and  most  blood- 
thirsty of  our  small  mammals ;  indeed,  none  of 
our  larger  beasts  are  more  so.  There  is  some- 
thing devilish  and  uncanny  about  it.  It  persists 
like  fate ;  it  eludes,  but  cannot  be  eluded.  The 
terror  it  inspires  in  the  smaller  creatures  —  rats, 
rabbits,  chipmunks — is  pitiful  to  behold.  A  rat 
pursued  by  a  weasel  has  been  known  to  rush  into 
a  room,  uttering  dismal  cries,  and  seek  the  pro- 
tection of  a  man  in  bed.  A  chipmunk  will  climb 
to  the  top  of  a  tall  tree  to  elude  it,  and  then, 


84       SQUIREELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

when  followed^  let  go  its  hold  and  drop  with  a 
cry  of  despair  toward  the  ground.  A  friend  of 
mine,  walking  along  the  road  early  one  morning, 
saw  a  rat  rush  over  the  fence  and  cross  a  few 
yards  ahead  of  him.  Pressing  it  close  came  a 
weasel,  which  seized  the  rat  before  it  could  gain 
the  opposite  wall.  My  friend  rushed  to  the  aid 
of  the  rat  with  his  cane.  But  the  weasel  dodged 
his  blows,  and  in  a  moment  or  two  turned  fiercely 
upon  him.  My  friend  aimed  more  blows  at  it 
without  effect,  when  the  weasel  began  leaping 
up  before  him,  within  a  few  feet  of  his  face,  its 
eyes  gleaming,  its  teeth  threatening,  and  dodg- 
ing every  blow  aimed  at  it.  The  effect,  my 
friend  says,  was  singularly  uncanny  and  start- 
ling. It  was  like  some  infuriated  imp  of  Satan 
dancing  before  him,  and  watching  for  a  chance 
to  seize  him  by  the  throat  or  to  dash  into  his 
eyes.  He  slowly  backed  off,  beating  the  air 
with  his  cane.  Then  the  weasel  returned  to  the 
disabled  rat  and  attempted  to  drag  it  into  the 
wall.  My  friend  now  began  to  hurl  stones  at 
it,  but  it  easily  dodged  them.  Now  he  was  joined 
by  another  passer-by,  and  the  two  opened  upon 
the  weasel  with  stones,  till  finally,  in  dodging 
one,  it  was  caught  by  the  other,  and  so  much 
hurt  that  it  gave  up  the  rat  and  sought  shelter 
in  the  wall,  where  it  was  left  waiting  to  secure 
its  game  when  its  enemies  should  have  gone  on. 


THE  WEASEL  85 

I  must  give  one  more  instance  of  the  boldness 
and  ferocity  of  the  weasel.  A  woman  in  north- 
ern Vermont  discovered  that  something  was  kill- 
ing her  hens,  often  on  the  nest.  She  watched 
for  the  culprit,  and  at  last  caught  a  weasel  in 
the  act.  It  had  seized  the  hen,  and  refused  to 
let  go  when  she  tried  to  scare  it  away.  Then 
the  woman  laid  hold  of  it  and  tried  choking  it, 
when  the  weasel  released  its  hold  upon  the  hen 
and  fastened  its  teeth  into  her  hand  between  the 
thumb  and  forefinger.  She  could  not  choke  it 
off,  and  ran  to  a  neighbor  for  help,  but  no  one 
could  remove  it  without  tearing  the  flesh  from 
the  woman's  hand.  Then  some  one  suggested  a 
pail  of  water  ;  into  this  the  hand  and  weasel  were 
plunged,  but  the  creature  would  not  let  go  even 
then,  and  did  not  until  it  was  drowned. 

The  weasel  is  a  subtle  and  destructive  enemy  of 
the  birds.  It  climbs  trees  and  explores  them  with 
great  ease  and  nimbleness.  I  have  seen  it  do  so 
on  several  occasions.  One  day  my  attention  was 
arrested  by  the  angry  notes  of  a  pair  of  brown 
thrashers  that  were  flitting  from  bush  to  bush 
along  an  old  stone  wall  in  a  remote  field.  Pre- 
sently I  saw  what  it  was  that  excited  them,  — 
three  large  red  weasels,  or  ermines,  coming  along 
the  stone  wall,  and  leisurely  and  half  playfully 
exploring  every  tree  that  stood  near  it.     They 


86       SQUIRRELS   A:N^D   OTHER   FUR-BEARERS 

had  probably  robbed  the  thrashers.  They  would 
go  up  the  trees  with  great  ease,  and  glide  ser- 
pent-like out  upon  the  main  branches.  When 
they  descended  the  tree,  they  were  unable  to 
come  straight  down,  like  a  squirrel,  but  went 
around  it  spirally.  How  boldly  they  thrust  their 
heads  out  of  the  wall,  and  eyed  me  and  sniffed 
me  as  I  drew  near,  —  their  round,  thin  ears,  their 
prominent,  glistening,  bead-like  eyes,  and  the 
curving,  snake-like  motions  of  the  head  and  neck 
being  very  noticeable.  They  looked  like  blood- 
suckers and  egg-suckers.  They  suggested  some- 
thing extremely  remorseless  and  cruel.  One  could 
understand  the  alarm  of  the  rats  when  they  dis- 
cover one  of  these  fearless,  subtle,  and  circum- 
venting creatures  threading  their  holes.  To 
flee  must  be  like  trying  to  escape  death  itself. 
I  was  one  day  standing  in  the  woods  upon  a  flat 
stone,  in  what  at  certain  seasons  was  the  bed  of 
a  stream,  when  one  of  these  weasels  came  undu- 
lating along  and  ran  under  the  stone  upon  which 
I  was  standing.  As  I  remained  motionless,  he 
thrust  out  his  wedge-shaped  head,  and  turned  it 
back  above  the  stone  as  if  half  in  mind  to  seize 
my  foot ;  then  he  drew  back,  and  presently  went 
his  way.  These  weasels  often  hunt  in  packs  like 
the  British  stoat.  When  I  was  a  boy,  my  father 
one  day  armed  me  with  an  old  musket  and  sent 


THE  WEASEL  87 

me  to  shoot  chipmunks  around  the  corn.  While 
watching  the  squirrels,  a  troop  of  weasels  tried 
to  cross  a  bar-way  where  I  sat,  and  were  so  bent 
on  doing  it  that  I  fired  at  them,  boy-like,  simply 
to  thwart  their  purpose.  One  of  the  weasels  was 
disabled  by  my  shot,  but  the  troop  was  not  dis- 
couraged, and,  after  making  several  feints  to  cross, 
one  of  them  seized  the  wounded  one  and  bore  it 
over,  and  the  pack  disappeared  in  the  wall  on 
the  other  side. 

Let  me  conclude  this  chapter  with  two  or  three 
more  notes  about  this  alert  enemy  of  the  birds 
and  lesser  animals,  the  weasel. 

A  farmer  one  day  heard  a  queer  growling 
sound  in  the  grass  :  on  approaching  the  spot 
he  saw  two  weasels  contending  over  a  mouse  ; 
both  held  the  mouse,  pulling  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, and  they  were  so  absorbed  in  the  struggle 
that  the  farmer  cautiously  put  his  hands  down 
and  grabbed  them  both  by  the  back  of  the  neck. 
He  put  them  in  a  cage,  and  offered  them  bread 
and  other  food.  This  they  refused  to  eat,  but  in 
a  few  days  one  of  them  had  eaten  the  other  up, 
picking  his  bones  clean,  and  leaving  nothing  but 
the  skeleton. 

The  same  farmer  was  one  day  in  his  cellar 
when  two  rats  came  out  of  a  hole  near  him  in 
great  haste,  and  ran  up  the  cellar  wall  and  along 


88       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

its  top  till  they  came  to  a  floor  timber  that  stopped 
their  progress,  when  they  turned  at  bay,  and 
looked  excitedly  back  along  the  course  they  had 
come.  In  a  moment  a  weasel,  evidently  in  hot 
pursuit  of  them,  came  out  of  the  hole,  but,  see- 
ing the  farmer,  checked  his  course  and  darted 
back.  The  rats  had  doubtless  turned  to  give 
him  fight,  and  would  probably  have  been  a 
match  for  him. 

The  weasel  seems  to  track  its  game  by  scent. 
A  hunter  of  my  acquaintance  was  one  day  sit- 
ting in  the  woods,  when  he  saw  a  red  squirrel 
run  with  great  speed  up  a  tree  near  him,  and 
out  upon  a  long  branch,  from  which  he  leaped 
to  some  rocks,  disappearing  beneath  them.  In 
a  moment  a  weasel  came  in  full  course  upon 
his  trail,  ran  up  the  tree,  then  out  along  the 
branch,  leaping  from  there  to  the  rocks  just  as 
the  squirrel  had  done  and  pursuing  him  into 
their  recesses. 

Doubtless  the  squirrel  fell  a  prey  to  him.  The 
squirrel's  best  game  would  have  been  to  keep 
to  the  higher  treetops,  where  he  could  easily 
have  distanced  the  weasel.  But  beneath  the 
rocks  he  stood  a  very  poor  chance.  I  have 
often  wondered  what  keeps  such  an  animal  as 
the  weasel  in  check,  for  they  are  quite  rare. 
They  never  need  go  hungry,  for  rats  and  squir- 


THE  WEASEL  89 

rels  and  mice  and  birds  are  everywhere.  They 
probably  do  not  fall  a  prey  to  any  other  animal, 
and  they  are  very  rarely  captured  or  killed  by 
man.  But  the  circumstances  or  agencies  that 
check  the  increase  of  any  species  of  animal 
are,  as  Darwin  says,  very  obscure  and  but  little 
known. 


IX 


THE    MINK 


In  walking  through  the  woods  one  day  in 
early  winter,  we  read  upon  the  newly  fallen 
snow  the  record  of  a  mink's  fright  the  night 
before.  The  mink  had  been  traveling  through 
the  woods  post-haste,  not  along  the  watercourses 
where  one  sees  them  by  day,  but  over  ridges 
and  across  valleys.  We  followed  his  track  some 
distance  to  see  what  adventures  he  had  met  with. 
We  tracked  him  through  a  bushy  swamp,  and  saw 
where  he  had  left  it  to  explore  a  pile  of  rocks, 
then  where  he  had  taken  to  the  swamp  again, 
and  where  he  had  entered  the  more  open  woods. 
Presently  the  track  turned  sharply  about,  and 
doubled  upon  itself  in  long  hurried  strides. 
What  had  caused  the  mink  to  change  his  mind 
so  suddenly  ?  We  explored  a  few  paces  ahead, 
and  came  upon  a  fox  track.  The  mink  had  prob- 
ably seen  the  fox  stalking  stealthily  through  the 
woods,  and  the  sight  had  doubtless  brought  his 
heart  into  his  mouth.  I  think  he  climbed  a  tree, 
and  waited  till  the  fox  had  passed.     His  track 


THE  MINK  91 

disappeared  amid  a  clump  of  hemlocks,  and  then 
reappeared  again  a  little  beyond  them.  It  de- 
scribed a  big  loop  around,  and  then  crossed  the 
fox  track  only  a  few  yards  from  the  point  where 
its  course  was  interrupted.  Then  it  followed  a 
little  watercourse,  went  under  a  rude  bridge  in  a 
wood-road,  then  mingled  with  squirrel  tracks  in 
a  denser  part  of  the  thicket.  If  the  mink  met 
a  muskrat  or  a  rabbit  in  his  travels,  or  came 
upon  a  grouse,  or  quail,  or  a  farmer's  henroost, 
he  had  the  supper  he  was  in  quest  of. 

I  followed  a  mink's  track  one  morning  upon 
the  snow  till  I  found  where  the  prowler  had 
overtaken  and  killed  a  muskrat  by  a  stone  wall 
near  a  little  stream.  The  blood  upon  the  snow 
and  the  half-devoured  body  of  the  rat  told  the 
whole  story.  The  mink  is  very  fond  of  musk- 
rats,  and  trappers  often  use  this  flesh  to  bait 
their  traps.  I  wonder  if  he  has  learned  to  enter 
the  under- water  hole  to  the  muskrat's  den,  and 
then  seek  him  in  his  chamber  above,  where  the 
poor  rat  would  have  little  chance  to  escape. 

The  mink  is  only  a  larger  weasel,  and  has 
much  of  the  boldness  and  bloodthirstiness  of 
that  animal.  One  summer  day  my  dog  Lark  and 
I  were  sitting  beside  a  small  watercourse  in  the 
woods,  when  I  saw  a  mink  coming  up  the  stream 
toward  us.     I  sat  motionless  till  the  mink  was 


92       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

within  a  few  feet  of  us,  when  the  dog  saw  him. 
As  the  dog  sprang,  the  mink  darted  under  a  large 
flat  stone.  Lark  was  very  fierce,  and  seemed 
to  say  to  me,  "  Just  lift  up  that  stone  and  I  will 
show  you  my  way  with  minks."  This  I  quickly 
did,  and  the  dog  sprang  for  the  game,  but  he 
as  quickly  withdrew  with  a  cry  of  pain  as  if  he 
had  touched  something  red-hot.  The  mink  had 
got  in  the  first  blow  or  bite,  and  then  effected 
his  escape  between  my  feet  and  the  dog's,  as  if 
he  had  vanished  in  the  air.  Where  he  went  to 
was  a  mystery.  There  was  no  hole  ;  no  depth 
of  water ;  no  hiding-place  anywhere  that  I  could 
discover  or  that  the  dog  could  discover,  and  yet 
the  mink  had  disappeared.  It  was  like  some 
conjurer's  trick. 

Minks  are  fond  of  fish,  and  can  capture  them 
in  the  water.  This  makes  them  very  destruc- 
tive along  small  trout  streams  and  ponds.  I 
once  saw  a  trout  with  an  ugly  gash  in  its  side, 
which  was  doubtless  the  work  of  a  mink.  With 
a  friend,  I  once  had  a  camp  by  a  trout  stream  in 
the  Catskills  that  we  named  ''  Mink  Camp,"  by 
reason  of  the  number  of  minks  that  came  every 
night  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  to  devour  the  fish- 
heads  and  entrails  that  we  threw  over  on  the 
opposite  bank.  We  could  often  hear  them  dis- 
puting over  the  spoils,  and  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  camp-fire  could  sometimes  see  them. 


THE  MINK  93 

You  may  know  the  mink's  track  upon  the 
snow  from  those  of  the  squirrels  at  once.  In 
the  squirrel-track  the  prints  of  the  large  hind 
feet  are  ahead,  with  the  prints  of  the  smaller  fore 
feet  just  behind  them,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
rabbit.  The  mink,  in  running,  usually  plants 
his  hind  feet  exactly  upon  the  track  of  his 
fore  feet,  and  closer  together  than  the  squirrel, 
so  that  his  trail  upon  the  snow  is  something  like 
this :  — 

The  squirrel's  track,  as  well  as  those  of  the  rab- 
bit and  the  white-footed  mouse,  is  in  form  like 
this :  — 


One  winter  day  I  had  a  good  view  of  a  mink 
running  upon  the  snow  and  ice  along  the  edge 
of  a  stream.  He  had  seen  or  heard  me,  and  was 
making  a  little  extra  speed.  He  bounded  along 
with  his  back  much  arched,  in  a  curiously  stiff 
and  mechanical  sort  of  way,  with  none  of  the 
grace  and  ease  of  the  squirrel.  He  leaped  high, 
and  cleared  about  two  and  a  half  feet  at  a  bound. 


X 

THE    EACCOON 

In  March  that  brief  summary  of  a  bear,  the 
raccoon,  comes  out  of  his  den  in  the  ledges, 
and  leaves  his  sharp  digitigrade  track  upon  the 
snow,  —  traveling  not  unfrequently  in  pairs,  — 
a  lean,  hungry  couple,  bent  on  pillage  and 
plunder.  They  have  an  unenviable  time  of  it, 
—  feasting  in  the  summer  and  fall,  hibernating 
in  winter,  and  starving  in  spring.  In  April  I 
have  found  the  young  of  the  previous  year 
creeping  about  the  fields,  so  reduced  by  starva- 
tion as  to  be  quite  helpless,  and  offering  no  re- 
sistance to  my  taking  them  up  by  the  tail  and 
carrying  them  home. 

The  old  ones  also  become  very  much  emaci- 
ated, and  come  boldly  up  to  the  barn  or  other 
out-buildings  in  quest  of  food.  I  remember,  one 
morning  in  early  spring,  hearing  old  Cuff,  the 
farm-dog,  barking  vociferously  before  it  was  yet 
light.  When  we  got  up  we  discovered  him  at 
the  foot  of  an  ash-tree,  which  stood  about  thirty 
rods  from  the  house,  looking  up  at  some  gray 


THE  RACCOON  95 

object  in  the  leafless  branches,  and  by  his  man- 
ners and  his  voice  evincing  great  impatience 
that  we  were  so  tardy  in  coming  to  his  assist- 
ance. Arrived  on  the  spot,  we  saw  in  the  tree 
a  coon  of  unusual  size.  One  bold  climber  pro- 
posed to  go  up  and  shake  it  down.  This  was 
what  old  Cuff  wanted,  and  he  fairly  bounded 
with  delight  as  he  saw  his  young  master  shin- 
ning up  the  tree.  Approaching  within  eight  or 
ten  feet  of  the  coon,  the  climber  seized  the  branch 
to  which  it  clung  and  shook  long  and  fiercely. 
But  the  coon  was  in  no  danger  of  losing  its 
hold ;  and  when  the  climber  paused  to  renew  his 
hold  it  turned  toward  him  with  a  growl,  and 
showed  very  clearly  a  purpose  to  advance  to  the 
attack.  This  caused  its  pursuer  to  descend  to 
the  ground  again  with  all  speed.  When  the  coon 
was  finally  brought  down  with  a  gun,  it  fought 
the  dog,  which  was  a  large,  powerful  animal, 
with  great  fury,  returning  bite  for  bite  for  some 
moments ;  and  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had 
elapsed,  and  its  unequal  antagonist  had  shaken 
it  as  a  terrier  does  a  rat,  making  his  teeth  meet 
through  the  small  of  its  back,  the  coon  still 
showed  fight. 

The  coon  is  very  tenacious  of  life,  and  like 
the  badger  will  always  whip  a  dog  of  its  own  size 
and  weight.     A  woodchuck  can   bite  severely. 


96       SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

having  teeth  that   cut   like  chisels^  but  a  coon 
has  agility  and  power  of  limb  as  well. 

Coons  are  considered  game  only  in  the  fall,  or 
towards  the  close  of  summer,  when  they  become 
fat  and  their  flesh  sweet.  At  this  time,  cooning 
is  a  famous  pastime  in  the  remote  interior.  As 
these  animals  are  entirely  nocturnal  in  their  hab- 
its, they  are  hunted  only  at  night.  A  piece  of 
corn  on  some  remote  side-hill  near  the  mountain, 
or  between  two  pieces  of  woods,  is  most  apt  to 
be  frequented  by  them.  While  the  corn  is  yet 
green  they  pull  the  ears  down  like  hogs,  and, 
tearing  open  the  sheathing  of  husks,  eat  the 
tender,  succulent  kernels,  bruising  and  destroy- 
ing much  more  than  they  devour.  Sometimes 
their  ravages  are  a  matter  of  serious  concern  to 
the  farmer.  But  every  such  neighborhood  has 
its  coon-dog,  and  the  boys  and  young  men 
dearly  love  the  sport.  The  party  sets  out  about 
eight  or  nine  o'clock  of  a  dark,  moonless  night, 
and  stealthily  approaches  the  cornfield.  The 
dog  knows  his  business,  and  when  he  is  put  into 
a  patch  of  corn  and  told  to  "  hunt  them  up  "  he 
makes  a  thorough  search,  and  will  not  be  misled 
by  any  other  scent.  You  hear  him  rattling 
through  the  corn,  hither  and  yon,  with  great 
speed.  The  coons  prick  up  their  ears,  and 
quickly  take  themselves  off  on  the  opposite  side 


THE  RACCOON  97 

of  the  field.  In  the  stillness  you  may  sometimes 
hear  a  single  stone  rattle  on  the  wall  as  they 
hurry  toward  the  woods.  If  the  dog  finds  no- 
thing he  comes  back  to  his  master  in  a  short 
time,  and  says  in  his  dumb  way,  "  No  coon 
there."  But  if  he  strikes  a  trail  you  presently 
hear  a  louder  rattling  on  the  stone  wall,  and 
then  a  hurried  bark  as  he  enters  the  woods, 
succeeded  in  a  few  minutes  by  loud  and  re- 
peated barkings  as  he  reaches  the  foot  of  the 
tree  in  which  the  coon  has  taken  refuge.  Then 
follows  a  pellmell  rush  as  the  cooning  party  dash 
up  the  hill,  into  the  woods,  through  the  brush  and 
the  darkness,  falling  over  prostrate  trees,  pitch- 
ing into  gullies  and  hollows,  losing  hats  and 
tearing  clothes,  till  finally,  guided  by  the  baying 
of  the  faithful  dog,  they  reach  the  tree.  The 
first  thing  now  in  order  is  to  kindle  a  fire,  and, 
if  its  light  reveals  the  coon,  to  shoot  him ;  if  not, 
to  fell  the  tree  with  an  axe,  unless  this  last  expe- 
dient happens  to  be  too  great  a  sacrifice  of  timber 
and  of  strength,  in  which  case  it  is  necessary 
to  sit  down  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and  wait  till 
morning. 


XI 

THE    PORCUPINE 

Among  our  wild  animals  there  are  three  that 
are  slow-moving,  dull-witted,  and  almost  fearless, 
—  the  skunk,  the  opossum,  and  the  porcupine. 
The  two  latter  seem  to  be  increasing  in  most 
parts  of  the  country.  The  opossum  is  becoming 
quite  common  in  the  valley  of  the  Hudson,  and 
the  porcupine  is  frequently  met  with  in  parts  of 
the  country  where  it  was  rarely  or  never  seen 
forty  years  ago. 

When  the  boys  in  late  fall  now  go  cooning 
where  I  used  to  go  cooning  in  my  youth,  the 
dogs  often  run  on  a  porcupine  or  drive  him  up 
a  tree,  and  thus  the  sport  is  interrupted.  Some- 
times the  dog  comes  to  them  with  his  mouth 
stuck  full  of  quills,  and  is  then  compelled  to 
submit  to  the  painful  operation  of  having  them 
withdrawn. 

A  sportsman  relates  that  he  once  came  upon 
a  dead,  porcupine  and  a  dead  bald  eagle  lying 
upon  the  ground  within  a  few  yards  of  each 
other.     The  eagle  had  partly  torn  the  porcupine 


THE  PORCUPINE  99 

to  pieces,  but  in  attacking  it  with  its  beak  it  bad 
driven  numerous  spines  o£  the  animal  into  its 
throat,  and  from  their  effect  had  apparently  died 
as  soon  as  its  victim. 

The  quill  of  a  porcupine  is  like  a  bad  habit : 
if  it  once  gets  hold  it  constantly  works  deeper 
and  deeper,  though  the  quill  has  no  power  of 
motion  in  itself ;  it  is  the  live,  active  flesh  of  its 
victim  that  draws  it  in  by  means  of  the  barbed 
point.  One  day  my  boy  and  I  encountered  a 
porcupine  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  Catskills,  and 
we  had  a  little  circus  with  him ;  we  wanted  to 
wake  him  up,  and  make  him  show  a  little  excite^ 
ment,  if  possible.  Without  violence  or  injury 
to  him,  we  succeeded  to  the  extent  of  making 
his  eyes  fairly  stand  out  from  his  head,  but 
quicken  his  motion  he  would  not,  —  probably 
could  not. 

What  astonished  and  alarmed  him  seemed  to 
be  that  his  quills  had  no  effect  upon  his  enemies ; 
they  laughed  at  his  weapons.  He  stuck  his  head 
under  a  rock  and  left  his  back  and  tail  exposed. 
This  is  the  porcupine's  favorite  position  of  de- 
fense. "  Now  come  if  you  dare,"  he  seems  to 
say.  Touch  his  tail,  and  like  a  trap  it  springs 
up  and  strikes  your  hand  full  of  little  quills. 
The  tail  is  the  active  weapon  of  defense ;  with 
this  the  animal  strikes.     It  is  the  outpost  that 


100     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

delivers  its  fire  before  the  citadel  is  reached.  It 
is  doubtless  this  fact  that  has  given  rise  to  the 
popular  notion  that  the  porcupine  can  shoot  its 
quillsj  which  of  course  it  cannot  do. 

With  a  rotten  stick  we  sprang  the  animal's 
tail  again  and  again,  till  its  supply  of  quills  be- 
gan to  run  low,  and  the  creature  grew  uneasy. 
'^  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  seemed  to  say,  his 
excitement  rising.  His  shield  upon  his  back,  too, 
we  trifled  with,  and  when  we  finally  drew  him 
forth  with  a  forked  stick,  his  eyes  were  ready  to 
burst  from  his  head.  In  what  a  peevish,  injured 
tone  the  creature  did  complain  of  our  unfair  tac- 
tics !  He  protested  and  protested,  and  whim- 
pered and  scolded,  like  some  infirm  old  man 
tormented  by  boys.  His  game  after  we  led  him 
forth  was  to  keep  himself  as  much  as  possible  in 
the  shape  of  a  ball,  but  with  two  sticks  and  a 
cord  we  finally  threw  him  over  on  his  back  and 
exposed  his  quill-less  and  vulnerable  under  side, 
when  he  fairly  surrendered  and  seemed  to  say, 
"Now  you  may  do  with  me  as  you  like."  Then 
we  laughed  in  his  face  and  went  our  way. 

Before  we  had  reached  our  camp  I  was  sud- 
denly seized  with  a  strange,  acute  pain  in  one 
of  my  feet.  It  seemed  as  if  a  large  nerve  was 
being  roughly  sawed  in  two.  I  could  not  take 
another  step.     Sitting  down  and  removing  my 


THE  PORCUPINE  101 

shoe  and  stocking,  I  searched  for  the  cause  of 
the  paralyzing  pain.  The  foot  was  free  from 
mark  or  injury,  but  what  was  that  Httle  thorn  or 
fang  of  thistle  doing  on  the  ankle  ?  I  pulled  it 
out  and  found  it  to  be  one  of  the  lesser  quills  of 
the  porcupine.  By  some  means,  during  our  "  cir- 
cus," the  quill  had  dropped  inside  my  stocking, 
the  thing  had  "  taken,"  and  the  porcupine  had 
his  revenge  for  all  the  indignities  we  had  put 
upon  him.  I  was  well  punished.  The  nerve 
which  the  quill  struck  had  unpleasant  memories 
of  it  for  many  months  afterward. 

When  you  come  suddenly  upon  the  porcupine 
in  his  native  haunts,  he  draws  his  head  back  and 
down,  puts  up  his  shield,  trails  his  broad  tail,  and 
waddles  slowly  away.  His  shield  is  the  sheaf  of 
larger  quills  upon  his  back,  which  he  opens  and 
spreads  out  in  a  circular  form  so  that  the  whole 
body  is  quite  hidden  beneath  it.  The  porcu- 
pine's great  chisel-like  teeth,  which  are  quite  as 
formidable  as  those  of  the  woodchuck,  he  does 
not  appear  to  use  at  all  in  his  defense,  but  relies 
entirely  upon  his  quills,  and  when  those  fail  him 
he  is  done  for. 

I  once  passed  a  summer  night  alone  upon  the 
highest  peak  of  the  Catskills,  Slide  Mountain.  I 
soon  found  there  were  numerous  porcupines  that 
desired  to  keep  me  company.     The  news  of  my 


102     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

arrival  in  the  afternoon  seemed  to  have  spread 
rapidly  among  them.  They  probably  had 
scented  me.  After  resting  awhile  I  set  out  to 
look  up  the  spring,  and  met  a  porcupine  on  his 
way  toward  my  camp.  He  turned  out  in  the 
grass,  and  then,  as  I  paused,  came  back  into  the 
path  and  passed  directly  over  my  feet.  He  evi- 
dently felt  that  he  had  as  good  a  right  to  the 
road  as  I  had ;  he  had  traveled  it  many  times 
before  me.  When  I  charged  upon  him  with  a 
stick  in  my  hand,  he  slowly  climbed  a  small  bal- 
sam fir. 

I  soon  found  the  place  of  the  spring,  and, 
having  dredged  it  and  cleaned  it,  I  sat  down 
upon  a  rock  and  waited  for  the  water  slowly  to 
seep  in.  Presently  I  heard  something  in  the 
near  bushes,  and  in  a  moment  a  large  porcupine 
came  into  view.  I  thought  that  he,  too,  was 
looking  for  water ;  but  no,  he  was  evidently  on 
his  way  to  my  camp.  He,  also,  had  heard  the 
latest  rumor  on  the  mountain-top.  It  was  highly 
amusing  to  watch  his  movements.  He  came  tee- 
tering along  in  the  most  aimless,  idiotic  way. 
Now  he  drifted  off  a  little  to  the  right,  then  a 
little  to  the  left ;  his  blunt  nose  seemed  vaguely 
to  be  feeling  the  air;  he  fumbled  over  the 
ground,  tossed  about  by  loose  boulders  and  little 
hillocks ;   his  eyes  wandered  stupidly  about ;    I 


PORCUPINE 


THE  PORCUPINE  103 

was  in  plain  view  within  four  or  five  yards  of 
him,  but  he  heeded  me  not.  Then  he  turned 
back  a  few  paces,  but  some  slight  obstacle  in 
his  way  caused  him  to  change  his  mind.  One 
thought  of  a  sleep-walker;  uncertainty  was 
stamped  upon  every  gesture  and  movement ; 
yet  he  was  really  drifting  towards  camp.  After 
a  while  he  struck  the  well-defined  trail,  and  his 
gray,  shapeless  body  slowly  disappeared  up  the 
slope.  In  five  or  six  minutes  I  overtook  him 
shuffling  along  within  sight  of  the  big  rock 
upon  which  rested  my  blanket  and  lunch.  As 
I  came  up  to  him  he  depressed  his  tail,  put  up 
his  shield,  and  slowly  pushed  off  into  the  wild 
grass.  While  I  was  at  lunch  I  heard  a  sound, 
and  there  he  was,  looking  up  at  me  from  the 
path  a  few  feet  away.  "  An  uninvited  guest," 
I  said ;  "  but  come  on."  He  hesitated,  and 
then  turned  aside  into  the  bracken ;  he  would 
wait  till  I  had  finished  and  had  gone  to  sleep, 
or  had  moved  off. 

How  much  less  wit  have  such  animals,  —  ani- 
mals like  the  porcupine,  opossum,  skunk,  turtle, 
—  that  nature  has  armed  against  all  foes,  than  the 
animals  that  have  no  such  ready-made  defenses, 
and  are  preyed  upon  by  a  multitude  of  enemies ! 
The  price  paid  for  being  shielded  against  all  dan- 
ger, for  never  feeling  fear  or  anxiety,  is  stupidity. 


104     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

If  the  porcupine  were  as  vulnerable  to  its  enemies 
as,  say,  the  woodchuck,  it  would  probably  soon 
come  to  be  as  alert  and  swift  of  foot  as  that 
marmot. 

For  an  hour  or  more,  that  afternoon  on  the 
mountain  top,  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
peculiar  continuous  sound  that  seemed  to  come 
from  far  away  to  the  east.  I  queried  with  my- 
self, ''  Is  it  the  sound  of  some  workman  in  a 
distant  valley  hidden  by  the  mountains,  or  is  its 
source  nearer  by  me  on  the  mountain  side  ?  " 
I  could  not  determine.  It  was  not  a  hammering 
or  a  grating  or  the  filing  of  a  saw,  though  it 
suggested  such  sounds.  It  had  a  vague,  distant, 
ventriloquial  character.  In  the  solitude  of  the 
mountain  top  there  was  something  welcome  and 
pleasing  in  it.  Finally  I  set  out  to  try  to  solve 
the  mystery.  I  had  not  gone  fifty  yards  from 
camp  when  I  knew  I  was  near  the  source  of  the 
sound.  Presently  I  saw  a  porcupine  on  a  log,  and 
as  I  approached  the  sound  ceased,  and  the  animal 
moved  away.  A  curious  kind  of  chant  he  made, 
or  note  of  wonder  and  surprise  at  my  presence 
on  the  mountain, — or  was  he  calling  together 
the  clan  for  a  midnight  raid  upon  my  camp  ? 

I  made  my  bed  that  night  of  ferns  and  bal- 
sam boughs  under  an  overhanging  rock,  where 
the  storm  that  swept  across  the  mountain  just 


THE  PORCUPINE  105 

after  dark  could  not  reach  me.  I  lay  down, 
rolled  in  my  blankets,  with  a  long  staff  by  my 
side,  in  anticipation  of  visits  from  the  porcu- 
pines. In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  awak- 
ened, and,  looking  out  of  my  den,  saw  a  por- 
cupine outlined  against  the  starlit  sky.  I  made 
a  thrust  at  him  with  my  staff,  when,  with  a 
grunt  or  grumble,  he  disappeared.  A  little  later 
I  was  awakened  again  by  the  same  animal,  or 
another,  which  I  repelled  as  before.  At  inter- 
vals during  the  rest  of  the  night  they  visited  me 
in  this  way ;  my  sleep  was  by  short  stages  from 
one  porcupine  to  another. 

These  animals  are  great  gnawers.  They  seem 
to  be  specially  fond  of  gnawing  any  tool  or  ob- 
ject that  has  been  touched  or  used  by  human 
hands.  They  would  probably  have  gnawed  my 
shoes  or  lunch  basket  or  staff  had  I  lain  still. 
A  settler  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  told  me 
they  used  to  prove  very  annoying  to  him  by 
getting  into  his  cellar  or  woodshed  at  night,  and 
indulging  their  ruling  passion  by  chewing  upon 
his  tool-handles  or  pails  or  harness.  "  Kick  one 
of  them  outdoors,"  he  said,  "and  in  half  an 
hour  he  is  back  again."  In  winter  they  usually 
live  in  trees,  gnawing  the  bark  and  feeding  upon 
the  inner  layer.  I  have  seen  large  hemlocks 
quite  denuded  and  killed  in  this  way. 


XII 

THE     OPOSSUM 

A  NEW  track  has  appeared  upon  the  snow  in 
my  neighborhood  here  on  the  Hudson  within 
the  past  few  years.  It  is  a  strange  track,  and 
suggests  some  small,  deformed  human  hand.  If 
the  dwarfs  or  brownies  we  read  of  in  childhood 
were  to  walk  abroad  in  winter,  they  might  leave 
such  an  imprint  behind  them  as  this. 

This  track,  which  we  seldom  see  later  than 
December,  is  made  by  the  opossum.  This  ani- 
mal is  evidently  multiplying  in  the  land,  and  is 
extending  its  range  northward.  Ten  years  ago 
they  were  rarely  found  here,  and  now  they  are 
very  common.  I  hear  that  they  are  very  abun- 
dant and  troublesome  on  parts  of  Long  Island. 
The  hind  foot  of  the  opossum  has  a  sort  of 
thumb  that  opposes  the  other  toes,  and  it  is  the 
imprint  of  this  member  that  looks  so  strange. 
The  under  side  of  the  foot  is  as  naked  as  the 
human  hand,  and  this  adds  to  the  novel  look  of 
the  track  in  the  snow. 

Late  in  the  fall,  my  hired  man  set  a  trap  in  a 
hole  in  hopes  of  catching  a  skunk,  but  instead 


THE  OPOSSUM  107 

he  caught  a  possum  by  one  of  its  fore  feet. 
The  poor  thing  was  badly  crippled,  and  he  kept 
it  in  a  barrel  for  a  couple  of  weeks  and  fed  it,  to 
try  and  make  amends  for  the  injury  he  had 
done.  Then  he  gave  it  its  freedom,  though  the 
injured  foot  had  healed  but  little. 

Soon  after  he  set  his  trap  in  the  same  hole, 
and  to  his  annoyance  caught  the  possum  again, 
this  time  by  one  of  the  hind  feet.  He  brought 
the  quiet,  uncomplaining  creature  to  me  by  its 
prehensile  tail,  and  asked  me  what  should  be 
done  with  or  for  it.  I  concluded  to  make  a 
hospital  for  it  in  one  corner  of  my  study.  I 
made  it  a  nest  behind  a  pile  of  magazines, 
and  fed  and  nursed  it  for  several  weeks.  It 
never  made  a  sound,  or  showed  the  least  uneasi- 
ness or  sign  of  suffering,  that  I  was  aware  of,  in 
all  that  time.  By  day  it  slept  curled  up  in  its 
nest.  If  disturbed,  it  did  not  "  play  possum," 
that  is,  did  not  feign  sleep  or  death,  but  opened 
its  mouth  and  grinned  up  at  you  in  a  sort  oS 
comical,  idiotic  way.  At  night  it  hobbled  about 
the  study,  and  ate  the  meat  and  cake  I  had 
placed  for  it.  Sometimes  by  day  it  would  come 
out  of  the  corner  and  eat  food  under  the  lounge, 
eating  very  much  after  the  manner  of  a  pig, 
though  not  so  greedily.  Indeed,  all  its  motions 
were  very  slow,  like  those  of  the  skunk. 


108     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

The  skin  of  the  opossum  is  said  to  be  so  fetid 
that  a  dog  will  not  touch  it.  A  dog  is  always 
suspicious  of  an  animal  that  shows  no  fear  and 
makes  no  attempt  to  get  out  of  his  way.  This 
fetidness  of  the  opossum  is  not  apparent  to  my 
sense. 

After  a  while  my  patient  began  to  be  trouble- 
some by  climbing  upon  the  book-shelves  and  in- 
specting the  books,  so  I  concluded  to  discharge 
him  from  the  hospital.  One  night  I  carried 
him  to  the  open  door  by  his  tail,  put  him  down 
upon  the  door-sill,  and  told  him  to  go  forth. 
He  hesitated,  looked  back  into  the  warm  room, 
then  out  into  the  winter  night,  then  thought  of 
his  maimed  feet,  and  of  traps  in  holes  where  un- 
suspecting possums  live,  and  could  not  reach  a 
decision.  "  Come,"  I  said,  "  I  have  done  all  I 
can  for  you ;  go  forth  and  shift  for  yourself." 
Slowly,  like  a  very  old  man,  he  climbed  down 
out  of  the  door  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 
I  have  no  doubt  he  regained  his  freedom  with  a 
sigh.  It  is  highly  probable  that,  if  a  trap  is  set 
in  his  way  again,  he  will  put  his  foot  in  it  as 
innocently  as  before. 

One  day  in  March  one  of  my  neighbors 
brought  to  me  a  handful  of  young  possums, 
very  young,  sixteen  of  them,  like  newly  born 
mice.     The  mother  had  been  picked  up  dead  on 


OPOSSUM 


THE   OPOSSUM  109 

the  railroad,  killed,  as  so  often  happens  to  coons, 
foxes,  muskrats,  and  woodchucks,  by  the  night 
express.  The  young  were  in  her  pouch,  each 
clinging  to  its  teat,  dead.  The  young  are  car- 
ried and  nursed  by  the  mothers  in  this  curious 
pocket  till  they  are  four  or  five  weeks  old,  or  of 
the  size  of  large  mice.  After  this  she  frequently 
carries  them  about,  cHnging  to  various  parts  of 
her  body,  some  with  their  tails  wound  around 
hers. 

The  next  winter,  two  or  more  possums  and 
a  skunk  took  up  their  quarters  under  my  study 
floor.  It  was  not  altogether  a  happy  family. 
Just  what  their  disagreements  were  about,  I  do 
not  know,  but  the  skunk  evidently  tried  to  roast 
the  possums  out.  .  The  possums  stood  it  better 
than  I  could.  I  came  heartily  to  wish  they  were 
all  roasted  out.  I  was  beginning  to  devise  ways 
and  means,  when  I  think  the  skunk  took  him- 
self off.  After  that,  my  only  annoyance  was 
from  the  quarreling  of  the  possums  among  them- 
selves, and  their  ceaseless  fussing  around  under 
there,  both  day  and  night.  At  times  they  made 
sounds  as  if  they  were  scratching  matches  on  the 
under  side  of  the  floor  :  then  they  seemed  to  be 
remaking  or  shifting  their  beds  from  one  side  to 
the  other.  Sometimes  I  think  they  snored  in 
their  sleep.     One  night,  as  I  was  going  from  the 


110     SQUIREELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

house  to  the  study,  I  heard  a  rustling  in  the  dry 
leaves  and  grass,  beside  the  path.  Lighting  a 
match,  I  approached  the  spot,  and  found  one 
of  the  possums  just  setting  out  on  his  night's  ex- 
cursions. I  stooped  down  and  stroked  his  head 
and  scratched  his  back,  but  he  did  not  move ;  he 
only  opened  his  mouth  a  little  and  looked  silly. 


XIII 

WILD    MICE 

One  of  tlie  prettiest  and  most  abundant  of 
our  native  mice  is  the  deer  mouse,  also  called 
the  white-footed  mouse ;  a  very  beautiful  crea- 
ture, nocturnal  in  his  habits,  with  large  ears, 
and  large,  fine  eyes  full  of  a  wild,  harmless 
look.  He  is  daintily  marked,  with  white  feet 
and  a  white  belly.  When  disturbed  by  day  he 
is  very  easily  captured,  having  none  of  the  cun- 
ning or  viciousness  of  the  common  Old  World 
mouse.     He  is  found  in  both  fields  and  woods. 

It  is  he  who,  high  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  some 
tree,  lays  by  a  store  of  beech-nuts  for  winter  use. 
Every  nut  is  carefully  shelled,  and  the  cavity 
that  serves  as  storehouse  lined  with  grass  and 
leaves.  The  wood-chopper  frequently  squanders 
this  precious  store.  I  have  seen  half  a  peck 
taken  from  one  tree,  as  clean  and  white  as  if  put 
up  by  the  most  delicate  hands,  —  as  they  were. 
How  long  it  must  have  taken  the  little  creature 
to  collect  this  quantity,  to  hull  them  one  by  one, 
and  convey  them  up  to  his  fifth-story  chamber ! 


112     SQUIRRELS   A^^D   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

But  the  deer  mice  do  not  always  carry  their 
supplies  home  in  this  manner ;  they  often  hide 
them  in  the  nearest  convenient  place.  I  have 
known  them  to  carry  a  pint  or  more  of  hickory 
nuts  and  deposit  them  in  a  pair  of  boots  stand- 
ing in  the  chamber  of  an  outhouse.  Near  the 
chestnut-trees  they  will  fill  little  pocket-like  de- 
pressions in  the  ground  with  chestnuts ;  in  a 
grain-field  they  carry  the  grain  under  stones; 
under  some  cover  beneath  cherry-trees  they  col- 
lect great  numbers  of  cherry-pits.  Hence,  when 
cold  weather  comes,  instead  of  staying  at  home 
like  the  chipmunk,  they  gad  about  hither  and 
thither  looking  up  their  supplies.  One  may  see 
their  tracks  on  the  snow  everywhere  in  the 
woods  and  fields  and  by  the  roadside.  The 
advantage  of  this  way  of  living  is  that  it  leads 
to  activity,  and  probably  to  sociability. 

One  day,  on  my  walk  in  the  woods,  I  saw 
at  one  point  the  mice-tracks  unusually  thick 
around  a  small  sugar-maple.  It  was  doubtless 
their  granary  ;  they  had  beech-nuts  stored  there, 
I  '11  warrant.  There  w^ere  two  entrances  to  the 
cavity  of  the  tree,  —  one  at  the  base,  and  one 
seven  or  eight  feet  up.  At  the  upper  one,  which 
was  only  just  of  the  size  of  a  mouse,  a  squir- 
rel had  been  trying  to  break  in.  He  had  cut  and 
chiseled  the  solid  wood  to  the  depth  of  nearly  an 


o 

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O 
O 

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WILD  MICE  113 

inch,  and  his  chips  strewed  the  snow  all  about. 
He  knew  what  was  in  there,  and  the  mice  knew 
that  he  knew  ;  hence  their  apparent  consterna- 
tion. They  had  rushed  wildly  about  over  the 
snow,  and,  I  doubt  not,  had  given  the  piratical  red 
squirrel  a  piece  of  their  minds.  A  few  yards  away 
the  mice  had  a  hole  down  into  the  snow,  which 
perhaps  led  to  some  snug  den  under  the  ground. 
Hither  they  may  have  been  slyly  removing  their 
stores  while  the  squirrel  was  at  work  with  his 
back  turned.  One  more  night  and  he  would 
effect  an  entrance  :  what  a  good  joke  upon  him 
if  he  found  the  cavity  empty  !  These  native 
mice,  I  imagine,  have  to  take  many  precautions 
to  prevent  their  winter  stores  being  plundered 
by  the  squirrels,  who  live,  as  it  were,  from  hand 
to  mouth. 

The  wild  mice  are  fond  of  bees  and  of 
honey,  and  they  apparently  like  nothing  better 
than  to  be  allowed  to  take  up  their  quarters  in 
winter  in  some  vacant  space  in  a  hive  of  bees. 
A  chamber  just  over  the  bees  seems  to  be  pre- 
ferred, as  here  they  get  the  benefit  of  the 
warmth  generated  by  the  insects.  One  very 
cold  winter  I  wrapped  up  one  of  my  hives  with 
a  shawl.  Before  long  I  noticed  that  the  shawl 
was  beginning  to  have  a  very  torn  and  tattered 
appearance.     On  examination,  I   found   that  a 


114     SQUIRRELS   AXD  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

native  mouse  had  established  itself  in  the  top  of 
the  hive,  and  had  levied  a  ruinous  tax  upon  the 
shawl  to  make  itself  a  nest.  Never  was  a  fabric 
more  completely  reduced  into  its  original  ele- 
ments than  were  large  sections  of  that  shawl. 
It  was  a  masterly  piece  of  analysis.  The  work 
of  the  wheel  and  the  loom  was  exactly  reversed, 
and  what  was  once  shawl  was  now  the  finest  and 
softest  of  wool. 

The  white-footed  mouse  is  much  more  com- 
mon along  the  fences  and  in  the  woods  than 
one  would  suspect.  One  winter  day  I  set  a 
mouse-trap  — the  kind  known  as  the  delusion 
trap  —  beneath  some  ledges  in  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  to  determine  what  species  of  mouse  was 
most  active  at  this  season.  The  snow  fell  so 
deeply  that  I  did  not  visit  my  trap  for  two  or 
three  weeks.  When  I  did  so,  it  was  literally 
packed  full  of  white-footed  mice.  There  were 
seven  in  all,  and  not  room  for  another.  Our 
woods  are  full  of  these  little  creatures,  and  they 
appear  to  have  a  happy,  social  time  of  it,  even  in 
the  severest  winters.  Their  little  tunnels  under 
the  snow  and  their  hurried  leaps  upon  its  sur- 
face may  be  noted  everywhere.  They  link  tree 
and  stump,  or  rock  and  tree,  by  their  pretty 
trails.  They  evidently  travel  for  adventure  and 
to  hear  the  news,  as  well  as  for  food.    They  know 


WILD  MICE  115 

that  foxes  and  owls  are  about,  and  they  keep 
pretty  close  to  cover.  When  they  cross  an  ex- 
posed place,  they  do  it  hurriedly. 

The  field  or  meadow  mice  doubtless  welcome 
the  snow.  They  can  now  come  out  of  their  dens 
in  the  ground  or  beneath  the  flat  stones  and  lead 
a  more  free  and  active  life.  The  snow  is  their 
friend.  It  keeps  off  the  cold,  and  it  shields  their 
movements  from  the  eyes  of  their  enemies,  the 
owls,  hawks,  and  foxes.  Now  they  can  venture 
abroad  from  their  retreats  without  fear.  They 
make  little  tunnels  and  roadways  everywhere 
over  the  surface  of  the  ground.  They  build 
winter  houses  under  the  great  drifts.  They 
found  little  mouse  colonies  in  places  where  they 
have  never  been  in  summer.  The  conditions  of 
life  with  them  are  entirely  changed.  They  can 
get  at  the  roots  of  the  grasses,  or  the  various 
herbs  and  seeds  they  feed  upon,  as  well  as  in  the 
snowless  seasons,  and  without  exposure  to  their 
enemies. 

I  fancy  they  have  great  times  there  beneath 
the  drifts.  Maybe  they  have  their  picnics  and 
holidays  then  as  we  have  ours  in  summer.  When 
the  drifts  disappear  in  spring,  you  may  often  see 
where  they  have  had  their  little  encampments :  a 
few  square  yards  of  the  pasture  or  meadow  bot- 
tom will  look  as  if  a  map  had  been  traced  upon 


116     SQUIRRELS  AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

it ;  tunnels  and  highways  running  and  winding 
in  every  direction  and  connecting  the  nests  of 
dry  grass,  which  might  stand  for  the  cities  and 
towns  on  the  map.  These  runways  are  smooth 
and  round  like  pipes,  and  only  a  little  larger 
than  the  bodies  of  the  mice.  I  think  it  is  only 
the  meadow  field-mouse  that  lives  in  this  way 
beneath  the  snow. 

I  met  one  of  these  mice  in  my  travels  one  day 
under  peculiar  conditions.  He  was  on  his  travels 
also,  and  we  met  in  the  middle  of  a  mountain 
lake.  I  was  casting  my  fly  there,  when  I  saw, 
just  sketched  or  etched  upon  the  glassy  surface, 
a  delicate  Y-shaped  figure,  the  point  of  which 
reached  about  to  the  middle  of  the  lake,  while 
the  two  sides,  as  they  diverged,  faded  out  toward 
the  shore.  I  saw  the  point  of  this  Y  was  being 
slowly  pushed  across  the  lake.  I  drew  near  in 
my  boat,  and  beheld  a  little  mouse  swimming 
vigorously  for  the  opposite  shore.  His  little 
legs  appeared  like  swiftly  revolving  wheels  be- 
neath him.  As  I  came  near,  he  dived  under 
the  water  to  escape  me,  but  came  up  again  like 
a  cork  and  just  as  quickly.  It  was  laughable  to 
see  him  repeatedly  duck  beneath  the  surface  and 
pop  back  again  in  a  twinkling.  He  could  not 
keep  under  water  more  than  a  second  or  two. 
Presently  I  reached  him  my  oar,  when  he  ran  up 


WILD  MICE  117 

it  and  into  the  palm  of  my  hand,  where  he  sat 
for  some  time  and  arranged  his  fur  and  warmed 
himself.  He  did  not  show  the  slightest  fear.  It 
was  probably  the  first  time  he  had  ever  shaken 
hands  with  a  human  being.  He  had  doubtless 
livetl  all  his  life  in  the  woods,  and  was  strangely 
unsophisticated.  How  his  little  round  eyes  did 
shine,  and  how  he  sniffed  me  to  find  out  if  I 
was  more  dangerous  than  I  appeared  to  his 
sight ! 

After  a  while  I  put  him  down  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat  and  resumed  my  fishing.  But  it 
was  not  long  before  he  became  very  restless,  and 
evidently  wanted  to  go  about  his  business.  He 
would  climb  up  to  the  edge  of  the  boat  and  peer 
down  into  the  water.  Finally  he  could  brook  the 
delay  no  longer  and  plunged  boldly  overboard ; 
but  he  had  either  changed  his  mind  or  lost  his 
reckoning,  for  he  started  back  in  the  direction 
from  which  he  had  come,  and  the  last  I  saw  of 
him  he  was  a  mere  speck  vanishing  in  the  shad- 
ows near  the  shore. 

Later  on  I  saw  another  mouse,  while  we  were 
at  work  in  the  fields,  that  interested  me  also. 
This  one  was  our  native  white-footed  mouse. 
We  disturbed  the  mother  with  her  young  in 
her  nest,  and  she  rushed  out  with  her  little 
ones  clinging  to  her  teats.     A  curious  spectacle 


118      SQUIRRELS  A:^rD   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

she  presented  as  slie  rushed  along,  as  if  slit  and 
torn  into  rags.  Her  pace  was  so  hurried  that 
two  of  the  young  could  not  keep  their  hold  and 
were  left  in  the  weeds.  We  remained  quiet,  and 
presently  the  mother  came  back  looking  for 
them.  When  she  had  found  one,  she  seized  it 
as  a  cat  seizes  her  kitten  and  made  oif  with  it. 
In  a  moment  or  two  she  came  back  and  found 
the  other  one  and  carried  it  away.  I  was  curi- 
ous to  see  if  the  young  would  take  hold  of  her 
teats  again  as  at  first,  and  be  dragged  away  in 
that  manner,  but  they  did  not.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  if  they  seize  hold  of  their 
mother  by  instinct  when  danger  threatens,  or  if 
they  simply  retain  the  hold  which  they  already 
have.  I  believe  the  flight  of  the  family  always 
takes  place  in  this  manner  with  this  species  of 
mouse. 

I  suspect  that  our  white-footed  mouse  is  capa- 
ble of  lending  a  hand  to  a  fellow  in  distress  ;  at 
least,  the  following  incident  looks  like  it.  One 
season  they  overran  my  cabin  in  the  woods,  and 
gave  me  a  good  deal  of  annoyance ;  so  much  so 
that  I  tried  trapping  them,  using  the  ordinary 
circular  trap  with  four  or  five  holes  and  wire 
springs.  One  night  I  heard  the  trap  spring  in 
the  attic  over  my  head,  followed  by  the  kicking 
and  struggling  of  the  mouse.     This  continued 


WILD  MICE  119 

for  a  few  moments,  when  all  was  still.  "  There/' 
I  said,  "that  mouse  is  dead."  Presently  the  rat- 
tling of  the  trap  recommenced,  and  continued  so 
long  at  short  intervals  that  going  to  sleep  was 
out  of  the  question.  I  fancied  the  mouse  was 
too  strong  for  the  trap,  so  I  went  upstairs  to 
investigate.  The  captive  was  dead,  sure  enough, 
and  I  was  more  puzzled  than  ever.  On  examin- 
ing him  closely,  I  found  the  fur  on  his  back  was 
wet  and  much  rumpled.  I  concluded,  therefore, 
that  his  companions  had  seized  him  there,  and 
had  been  tugging  away  at  him  to  drag  him  out 
of  the  trap,  causing  the  rattling  I  had  heard. 
No  other  explanation  seems  probable. 

The  least  mammal  in  our  woods  is  the  little 
mouse  -  like  shrew,  scarcely  more  than  three 
inches  long,  tail  and  all.  And  it  is  the  shyest 
and  least  known.  One  gets  a  glimpse  of  it 
only  at  rare  intervals,  while  sitting  or  standing 
motionless  in  the  woods.  There  is  a  slio:ht 
rustle  under  the  leaves,  and  you  may  see  a  tiny 
form  dart  across  a  little  opening  in  the  leafy 
carpet.  Its  one  dread  seems  to  be  exposure  to 
the  light.  If  it  were  watched  and  waited  for  by 
a  hundred  enemies,  it  could  hardly  be  more  hur- 
ried and  cautious  in  its  movements.  And  when 
once  captured  and  fairly  exposed  to  the  hght, 


120     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

it  soon  dies,  probably  of  fright.  One  night  in 
midsummer,  when  I  was  camping  in  the  woods, 
one  of  them  got  into  an  empty  tin  pail  and  was 
dead  in  the  morning.  A  teacher  caught  one  in 
a  delusion  trap,  and  attemped  to  take  it  to  her 
school,  to  show  her  children,  but  it  was  dead 
when  she  got  there.  In  winter  it  makes  little 
tunnels  under  the  snow  in  the  woods,  now  and 
then  coming  to  the  surface,  and,  after  a  few 
jumps,  diving  under  the  snow  again.  Its  tracks 
are  like  the  most  delicate  stitching.  I  have 
never  found  its  nest  or  seen  its  young.  Like 
all  the  shrews,  it  lives  mainly  upon  worms  and 
insects. 

The  track  of  one  of  our  native  mice  we  do  not 
see  upon  the  snow,  —  that  of  the  jumping  mouse. 
So  far  as  I  know,  it  is  the  only  one  of  our  mice 
that  hibernates.  It  is  much  more  rare  than  its 
cousin  the  deer  mouse,  or  white-footed  mouse, 
and  I  have  never  known  it  to  be  found  in  barns 
or  dwellings.  I  think  I  have  heard  it  called  the 
kangaroo  mouse,  because  of  its  form  and  its 
manner  of  running,  which  is  in  long  leaps.  Its 
fore  legs  are  small  and  short,  and  its  hind  legs 
long  and  strong.  It  bounds  along,  leaping  two 
or  more  feet  at  a  time.  I  used  to  see  it  when  a 
boy,  but  have  not  met  with  one  for  many  years. 


WILD  MICE  121 

One  summer,  a  boy  who  lives  in  Dutchess 
County,  across  the  Hudson  from  my  house, 
caught  four  of  these  mice  in  a  wire  trap,  two 
males  and  two  females.  The  boy  said  that  when 
he  picked  up  the  trap  the  two  males  fell  dead, 
from  fright  he  thought.  One  of  the  females 
died  in  October,  but  the  other  lived  and  began 
hibernating  early  in  November.  He  took  it  to 
his  teacher  in  New  York,  who  kept  it  through 
the  winter.  She  made  a  pocket  for  it  in  a 
woolen  sock,  but  it  was  not  suited  with  it,  for 
in  January  it  woke  up  and  made  itself  a  neat 
little  blanket  from  the  wool  which  it  nibbled 
from  the  sock.  In  this  it  rolled  itself  and  went 
to  sleep  again.  A  week  or  two  later  I  was  at 
the  school,  and  the  teacher  showed  me  her  sleep- 
ing mouse.  It  was  rolled  up  in  a  ball,  with  its 
tail  wrapped  about  its  head.  I  held  it  in  the 
palm  of  my  hand.  It  seemed  almost  as  cold 
as  a  dead  mouse,  and  I  could  not  see  it  breathe. 
It  was  carefully  put  back  in  its  blanket. 

Not  long  after  this,  a  small  house-mouse  was 
put  in  the  box  with  it.  "It  was  the  tiniest 
little  mouse,"  says  Miss  Burt,  "you  ever  saw. 
It  cuddled  in  with  the  hibernator,  who  got  up 
at  once  and  took  care  of  this  baby.  The  baby 
struck  out  independently  and  burrowed  in  the 
sand,  and  stole  some  of  the  wool  and  feathers 


122     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

from  hibernator  to  line  his  own  nest.  But  the 
jumping  mouse  went  in  with  him,  enlarged  the 
nest,  and  cuddled  down  to  him.  They  were 
great  friends.  But  the  baby  smelled  dreadfully, 
as  all  house-mice  do,  and  I  took  him  out.  Then 
the  hibernator  curled  up  again  and  went  into 
winter  quarters. 

"  When  the  warm  weather  came  on,  she  un- 
curled and  ate  and  drank.  She  preferred  pecan 
nuts  and  shredded-wheat  biscuit,  and  ate  corn. 
I  tried  to  tame  her.  I  took  a  strong  feather 
and  played  with  her.  At  first  she  resisted  and 
was  frightened,  but  after  a  while  she  '  stood  it,' 
and  would  even  eat  and  clean  herself  while  I 
scratched  her  with  this  feather.  But  she  was 
always  terribly  frightened,  when  coming  out  of 
her  day's  sleep,  if  I  began  to  play  with  her. 
After  being  thoroughly  waked  up,  she  did  not 
mind  it.  She  would  let  me  smooth  her  with  my 
finger,  and  she  would  smell  of  my  finger  and  go 
on  eating,  keeping  an  eye  out.  Three  times  she 
had  a  perfect  fit  of  fright,  lying  on  her  back, 
and  kicking  and  trembling  violently.  On  these 
occasions  she  made  a  scuttling  noise  or  cry,  and 
I  thought  each  time  she  would  die,  so  I  grew 
more  and  more  cautious  about  meddling  with 
her.  There  was  one  interesting  thing  about  it, 
—  she  rose  from  these  fits  and  ate  heartily,  and 


WILD  MICE  123 

cleaned  herself  with  great  unconcern.  I  was 
tempted  to  believe  that  she  shammed  dying. 

"  The  most  interesting  thing  I  ever  saw  her  do 
was  to  climb  up  on  her  glass  of  water,  sit  on  the 
rim,  and  put  both  little  paws  down  and  scoop  up 
a  big  double-handful  of  water  and  wash  her  face 
and  head.  She  made  her  face  very  wet,  just 
like  a  person  washing  his  face.  She  ate  sunflower 
seeds,  and  often  kept  one  eye  shut  a  long  time 
on  first  waking  up.  After  the  apple-blossoms 
came,  I  kept  her  box  supplied  with  flowers, 
such  as  apple-blossoms,  cherry,  spruce,  maple, 
and  so  on.  Also  I  kept  her  box  disinfected, 
with  plenty  of  good,  fresh  country  dirt.  But 
she  stuck  to  the  old  wool  and  feathers,  and  the 
little  piano-duster." 

The  mouse  continued  hibernating  at  intervals 
till  May.  One  damp,  chilly  morning  Miss  Burt 
thought  she  would  add  to  her  pet's  coverings,  the 
creature  seemed  so  cold  to  the  touch.  "  Little 
by  little,  much  of  her  bedding  of  wool  had  been 
removed,  although  she  had  a  pretty  good  blanket 
of  it  left,  and  the  feather  duster  over  her,  which 
she  appropriated  long  ago.  So  I  resolved  to  carry 
some  bits  of  flannel  to  school,  and,  when  I  went 
to  her  box  to  give  her  the  extra  clothing,  again 
found  her  as  you  saw  her,  rolled  up  in  a  ball. 
I  covered  her  carefully,  wrapped  her  all  up,  and 


124     SQUIERELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

put  her  back.  Later  in  the  day  I  peeped  in,  and 
she  was  awake.  In  the  afternoon  I  took  her 
out  in  her  little  blanket  and  looked  at  her.  She 
was  asleep,  but  started  up,  and,  seeing  herself  out 
of  her  box,  put  up  her  little  paw  in  fright.  She 
trembled  violently,  and  I  hastily  returned  her  to 
her  box,  but  before  I  could  cover  her  she  fell 
back  dead  of  fright."  Miss  Burt  adds  :  "  I  have 
had  her  put  in  alcohol.  One  tiny  paw  is  raised 
imploringly,  suggestive  of  the  sensitive  nerves 
that  caused  her  death." 


xiy 

GLIMPSES    OF    WILD    LIFE 

So  fond  am  I  of  seeing  Nature  reassert  her- 
self that  I  even  found  some  compensation  in  the 
loss  of  my  chickens  that  bright  November  night 
when  some  wild  creature,  coon  or  fox,  swept  two 
of  them  out  of  the  evergreens,  and  their  squawk- 
ing as  they  were  hurried  across  the  lawn  called 
me  from  my  bed  to  shout  good-by  after  them. 
It  gave  a  new  interest  to  the  hen-roost,  this  sud- 
den incursion  of  wild  nature.  I  feel  bound  to 
caution  the  boys  about  disturbing  the  wild  rab- 
bits that  in  summer  breed  in  my  currant-patch, 
and  in  autumn  seek  refuge  under  my  study  floor. 
The  occasional  glimpses  I  get  of  them  about  the 
lawn  in  the  dusk,  their  cotton  tails  twinkling  in 
the  dimness,  afford  me  a  genuine  pleasure.  I 
have  seen  the  time  when  I  would  go  a  good  way 
to  shoot  a  partridge  ;  but  I  would  not  have  killed, 
if  I  could,  the  one  that  started  out  of  the  vines 
that  cover  my  rustic  porch,  as  I  approached  that 
side  of  the  house  one  autumn  morning.  How 
much  of  the  woods,  and  of  the  untamable  spirit 


126     SQUIRRELS   AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

of  wild  nature,  she  brought  to  my  very  door ! 
It  was  tonic  and  exhilarating  to  see  her  whirl 
away  toward  the  vineyard.  I  also  owe  a  mo- 
ment's pleasure  to  the  gray  squirrel  that,  finding 
my  summer-house  in  the  line  of  his  travels  one 
summer  day,  ran  through  it  and  almost  over  my 
feet  as  I  sat  idling  with  a  book. 

I  am  sure  my  power  of  digestion  was  improved 
that  cold  winter  morning  when,  just  as  we  were 
sitting  down  to  breakfast  about  sunrise,  a  red  fox 
loped  along  in  front  of  the  window,  looking 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  and  disap- 
peared amid  the  currant-bushes.  What  of  the 
wild  and  the  cunning  did  he  not  bring !  His 
graceful  form  and  motion  were  in  my  mind's  eye 
all  day.  When  you  have  seen  a  fox  loping  along 
in  that  way,  you  have  seen  the  poetry  there  is  in 
the  canine  tribe.  It  is  to  the  eye  what  a  flowing 
measure  is  to  the  mind,  so  easy,  so  buoyant ;  the 
furry  creature  drifting  along  like  a  large  red 
thistledown,  or  like  a  plume  borne  by  the  wind. 
It  is  something  to  remember  with  pleasure,  that 
a  muskrat  sought  my  door  one  December  night 
when  a  cold  wave  was  swooping  down  upon  us. 
Was  he  seeking  shelter,  or  had  he  lost  his  reck- 
oning ?  The  dogs  cornered  him  in  the  very  door- 
way, and  set  up  a  great  hubbub.  In  the  dark- 
ness, thinking  it  was  a  cat,  I  put  my  hand  down 


GLIMPSES   OF  WILD  LIFE  127 

to  feel  it.  The  creature  skipped  to  the  other 
corner  of  the  doorway,  hitting  my  hand  with  its 
cold,  rope-like  tail.  Lighting  a  match,  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  him  sitting  up  on  his  haunches  like  a 
woodchuck,  confronting  his  enemies.  I  rushed 
in  for  the  lantern,  with  the  hope  of  capturing 
him  alive,  but  before  I  returned,  the  dogs,  grow- 
ing bold,  had  finished  him. 

I  have  had  but  one  call  from  a  coon,  that  I  am 
aware  of,  and  I  fear  we  did  not  treat  him  with 
due  hospitality.  He  took  up  his  quarters  for  the 
day  in  a  Norway  spruce,  the  branches  of  which 
nearly  brushed  the  house.  I  had  noticed  that 
the  dog  was  very  curious  about  that  tree  all  the 
afternoon.  After  dinner  his  curiosity  culmi- 
nated in  repeated  loud  and  confident  barking. 
Then  I  began  an  investigation,  expecting  to 
find  a  strange  cat,  or  at  most  a  red  squirrel. 
But  a  moment's  scrutiny  revealed  his  coonship. 
Then  how  to  capture  him  became  the  problem. 
A  long  pole  was  procured,  and  I  sought  to  dis- 
lodge him  from  his  hold.  The  skill  with  which 
he  maintained  himself  amid  the  branches  excited 
our  admiration.  But  after  a  time  he  dropped 
lightly  to  the  ground,  not  in  the  least  discon- 
certed, and  at  once  on  his  guard  against  both 
man  and  beast.  The  dog  was  a  coward,  and 
dared  not  face  him.     When  the  coon's  attention 


128     SQUIRRELS   A^^D   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

was  diverted,  the  dog  would  rush  in  ;  then  one 
of  us  would  attempt  to  seize  the  coon's  tail,  but 
he  faced  about  so  quickly,  his  black  eyes  gleam- 
ing, that  the  hand  was  timid  about  seizing  him. 
But  finally  in  his  skirmishing  with  the  dog  I 
caught  him  by  the  tail,  and  bore  him  safely  to 
an  open  flour-barrel,  and  he  was  our  prisoner. 

Much  amusement  my  little  boy  and  I  antici- 
pated with  him.  He  partook  of  food  that  same 
day,  and  on  the  second  day  would  eat  the  chest- 
nuts in  our  presence.  Never  did  he  show  the 
slightest  fear  of  us  or  of  anything,  but  he  was 
unwearied  in  his  efforts  to  regain  his  freedom. 
After  a  few  days  we  put  a  strap  upon  his  neck 
and  kept  him  tethered  by  a  chain.  But  in  the 
night,  by  dint  of  some  hocus-pocus,  he  got  the 
chain  unsnapped  and  made  off,  and  he  is  now,  I 
trust,  a  patriarch  of  his  tribe,  wearing  a  leather 
necktie. 

The  skunk  visits  every  farm  sooner  or  later. 
One  night  I  came  near  shakino^  hands  with  one 
on  my  very  door-stone.  I  thought  it  was  the 
cat,  and  put  down  my  hand  to  stroke  it,  when 
the  creature,  probably  appreciating  my  mistake, 
moved  off  up  the  bank,  revealing  to  me  the 
white  stripe  on  its  body  and  the  kind  of  cat  I 
had  saluted.  The  skunk  is  not  easily  ruffled, 
and  seems  to  employ  excellent  judgment  in  the 
use  of  its  terrible  weapon. 


GLIMPSES  OF  WILD  LIFE  129 

Several  times  I  have  had  calls  from  wood- 
chucks.  One  looked  in  at  the  open  door  of  my 
study  one  day,  and,  after  snif&ng  a  while,  and 
not  liking  the  smell  of  such  clover  as  I  was  com- 
pelled to  nibble  there,  moved  on  to  better  pas- 
tures. Another  one  invaded  the  kitchen  door 
while  we  were  at  dinner.  The  dogs  promptly 
challenged  him,  and  there  was  a  lively  scrimmage 
upon  the  door-stone.  I  thought  the  dogs  were 
fighting,  and  rushed  to  part  them.  The  inci- 
dent broke  in  upon  the  drowsy  summer  noon, 
as  did  the  appearance  of  the  muskrat  upon  the 
frigid  December  night. 

The  woodchuck  episode  that  afforded  us  the 
most  amusement  occurred  one  midsummer.  We 
were  at  work  in  a  newly-planted  vineyard,  when 
the  man  with  the  cultivator  saw,  a  few  yards  in 
front  of  him,  some  large  gray  object  that  at  first 
puzzled  him.  He  approached  it,  and  found  it  to 
be  an  old  woodchuck  with  a  young  one  in  her 
mouth.  She  was  carrying  her  kitten  as  does  a 
cat,  by  the  nape  of  the  neck.  Evidently  she 
was  moving  her  family  to  pastures  new.  As 
the  man  was  in  the  line  of  her  march,  she 
stopped  and  considered  what  was  to  be  done. 
He  called  to  me,  and  I  approached  slowly.  As 
the  mother  saw  me  closing  in  on  her  flank, 
she  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  panic,  and,  drop- 


130     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

ping  her  young,  she  fled  precipitately  for  the 
cover  of  a  large  pile  of  grape-posts  some  ten 
or  twelve  rods  distant.  We  pursued  hotly,  and 
overhauled  her  as  she  was  within  one  jump  of 
the  house  of  refuge.  Taking  her  by  the  tail,  I 
carried  her  back  to  her  baby ;  but  she  heeded  it 
not.  It  was  only  her  own  bacon  now  that  she 
was  solicitous  about.  The  young  one  remained 
where  he  had  been  dropped,  keeping  up  a  brave, 
reassuring  whistle  that  was  in  ludicrous  contrast 
to  his  exposed  and  helpless  condition.  He  was  the 
smallest  woodchuck  I  had  ever  seen,  not  much 
larger  than  a  large  rat.  His  head  and  shoulders 
were  so  large  in  proportion  to  the  body  as  to  give 
him  a  comical  look.  He  could  not  walk  about 
yet,  and  had  never  before  been  above  ground. 
Every  moment  or  two  he  would  whistle  cheerily, 
as  the  old  one  does  when  safe  in  his  den  with 
the  farm-dog  fiercely  baying  outside. 

We  took  the  youngster  home,  and  my  little 
boy  was  delighted  over  the  prospect  of  a  tame 
woodchuck.  Not  till  the  next  day  would  he  eat. 
Then,  getting  a  taste  of  the  milk,  he  clutched 
the  spoon  that  held  it  with  great  eagerness, 
and  sucked  away  like  a  little  pig.  We  were  all 
immensely  diverted  by  him.  He  ate  eagerly, 
grew  rapidly,  and  was  soon  able  to  run  about. 

As  the  old  one  had  been  killed,  we  became 


GLIMPSES  OF  WILD  LIFE  131 

curious  as  to  the  fate  of  the  rest  of  her  family, 
for  no  doubt  there  were  more.  Had  she  moved 
them,  or  had  we  intercepted  her  on  her  first  trip  ? 
We  knew  where  the  old  den  was,  but  not  the  new. 
So  we  would  keep  a  lookout.  Near  the  end  of 
the  week,  on  passing  by  the  old  den,  there  were 
three  young  ones  creeping  about  a  few  feet  from 
its  mouth.  They  were  starved  out,  and  had 
come  forth  to  see  what  could  be  found.  We 
captured  them  all,  and  the  young  family  was 
again  united.  How  these  poor,  half-famished 
creatures  did  lay  hold  of  the  spoon  when  they 
got  a  taste  of  the  milk !  One  could  not  help 
laughing.  Their  little  shining  black  paws  were 
so  handy  and  so  smooth ;  they  seemed  as  if  en- 
cased in  kid  gloves.  The  captives  throve  well 
upon  milk,  and  then  upon  milk  and  clover. 

But  after  the  novelty  of  the  thing  had  worn 
off,  the  boy  found  he  had  incumbered  himself 
with  serious  duties  in  assuming  the  position  of 
foster-mother  to  this  large  family ;  so  he  gave 
them  all  away  but  one,  the  first  one  captured, 
which  had  outstripped  all  the  others  in  growth. 
This  soon  became  a  very  amusing  pet,  but  he 
always  protested  when  handled,  and  always  ob- 
jected to  confinement.  I  should  mention  that 
the  cat  had  a  kitten  about  the  age  of  the  chuck, 
and,  as  she  had  more  milk  than  the  kitten  could 


132     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

disj)ose  of,  the  chuck,  when  we  first  got  him,  was 
often  placed  in  the  nest  with  the  kitten,  and 
was  regarded  by  the  cat  as  tenderly  as  her  own, 
and  allowed  to  nurse  freely.  Thus  a  friendship 
sprang  up  between  the  kitten  and  the  woodchuck, 
which  lasted  as  long  as  the  latter  lived.  They 
would  play  together  precisely  like  two  kittens, 
—  clinch  and  tumble  about  and  roll  upon  the 
grass  in  a  very  amusing  way.  Finally  the  wood- 
chuck  took  up  his  abode  under  the  floor  of  the 
kitchen,  and  gradually  relapsed  into  a  half-wild 
state.  He  would  permit  no  familiarities  from 
any  one  save  the  kitten,  but  each  day  they  would 
have  a  turn  or  two  at  their  old  games  of  rough- 
and-tumble.  The  chuck  was  now  over  half 
grown,  and  procured  his  own  living.  One  day 
the  dog,  who  had  all  along  looked  upon  him 
with  a  jealous  eye,  encountered  him  too  far  from 
cover,  and  his  career  ended  then  and  there. 

In  July  the  woodchuck  was  forgotten  in  our 
interest  in  a  little  gray  rabbit  which  we  found 
nearly  famished.  It  was  so  small  that  it  could 
sit  in  the  hollow  of  one's  hand.  Some  acci- 
dent had  probably  befallen  its  mother.  The 
tiny  creature  looked  spiritless  and  forlorn.  We 
had  to  force  the  milk  into  its  mouth.  But  in  a 
day  or  two  it  began  to  revive,  and  would  lap  the 
milk  eagerly.     Soon  it  took  to  grass  and  clover, 


GLIMPSES  OF  WILD  LIFE  133 

and  then  to  nibbling  sweet  apples  and  early 
pears.  It  grew  rapidly,  and  was  one  of  the  soft- 
est and  most  harmless-looking  pets  I  had  ever 
seen.  For  a  month  or  more  the  little  rabbit 
was  the  only  company  I  had,  and  it  helped  to 
beguile  the  time  immensely.  In  coming  in  from 
the  field  or  from  my  work,  I  seldom  failed  to 
bring  it  a  handful  of  red  clover  blossoms,  of 
which  it  became  very  fond.  One  day  it  fell 
slyly  to  licking  my  hand,  and  I  discovered  it 
wanted  salt.  I  would  then  moisten  my  fingers, 
dip  them  into  the  salt,  and  offer  them  to  the 
rabbit.  How  rapidly  the  delicate  little  tongue 
would  play  upon  them,  darting  out  to  the  right 
and  left  of  the  large  front  incisors,  the  slender 
paws  being  pressed  against  my  hand  as  if  to 
detain  it ! 

But  the  rabbit  proved  really  untamable ;  its 
wild  nature  could  not  be  overcome.  In  its  large 
box-cage  or  prison,  where  it  could  see  nothing 
but  the  tree  above  it,  it  was  tame,  and  would  at 
times  frisk  playfully  about  my  hand  and  strike 
it  gently  with  its  forefeet ;  but  the  moment  it 
was  liberated  in  a  room,  or  let  down  in  the  grass 
with  a  string  about  its  neck,  all  its  wild  nature 
came  forth.  In  the  room  it  would  run  and  hide ; 
in  the  open  it  would  make  desperate  efforts  to 
escape,  and  leap  and  bound  as  you  drew  in  the 


134     SQUIRRELS  A]N"D  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

string  that  held  it.  At  night,  too,  it  never  failed 
to  try  to  make  its  escape  from  the  cage,  and 
finally,  when  two  thirds  grown,  it  succeeded, 
and  we  saw  it  no  more. 


XV 

A   LIFE    OF   FEAR 

As  I  sat  looking  from  my  window  the  other 
morning  upon  a  red  squirrel  gathering  nuts  from 
a  small  hickory,  and  storing  them  up  in  his  den 
in  the  bank,  I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the 
state  of  constant  fear  and  apprehension  in  which 
the  wild  creatures  live,  and  I  tried  to  picture  to 
myself  what  life  would  be  to  me,  or  to  any  of 
us,  hedged  about  by  so  many  dangers,  real  or 
imaginary. 

The  squirrel  would  shoot  up  the  tree,  making 
only  a  brown  streak  from  the  bottom  to  the 
top ;  would  seize  his  nut  and  rush  down  again  in 
the  most  hurried  manner.  Half  way  to  his  den, 
which  was  not  over  three  rods  distant,  he  would 
rush  up  the  trunk  of  another  tree  for  a  few  yards 
to  make  an  observation.  No  danger  being  near, 
he  would  dive  into  his  den  and  reappear  again 
in  a  twinkling. 

Eeturnino;  for  another  nut,  he  would  mount 
the  second  tree  again  for  another  observation. 
Satisfied  that  the  coast  was  clear,  he  would  spin 


136     SQUIRRELS  AND   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

along  the  top  of  the  ground  to  the  tree  that  bore 
the  nuts,  shoot  up  it  as  before,  seize  the  fruit, 
and  then  back  again  to  his  retreat. 

Never  did  he  fail  during  the  half  hour  or 
more  that  I  watched  him  to  take  an  observation 
on  his  way  both  to  and  from  his  nest.  It  was 
"  snatch  and  run  "  with  him.  Something  seemed 
to  say  to  him  all  the  time  :  "  Look  out !  look 
out!"  "The  cat!"  "The  hawk!"  "The 
owl !  "     "  The  boy  with  the  gun  !  " 

It  was  a  bleak  December  morning ;  the  first 
fine  flakes  of  a  cold,  driving  snowstorm  were  just 
beginning  to  sift  down,  and  the  squirrel  was 
eager  to  finish  harvesting  his  nuts  in  time.  It 
was  quite  touching  to  see  how  hurried  and  anx- 
ious and  nervous  he  was.  I  felt  like  going  out 
and  lending  a  hand.  The  nuts  were  small,  poor 
pig-nuts,  and  I  thought  of  all  the  gnawing  he 
would  have  to  do  to  get  at  the  scanty  meat  they 
held.  My  little  boy  once  took  pity  on  a  squirrel 
that  lived  in  the  wall  near  the  gate,  and  cracked 
the  nuts  for  him,  and  put  them  upon  a  small 
board  shelf  in  the  tree  where  he  could  sit  and 
eat  them  at  his  ease. 

The  red  squirrel  is  not  so  provident  as  the 
chipmunk.  He  lays  up  stores  irregularly,  by 
fits  and  starts ;  he  never  has  enough  put  up  to 
carry   him  over  the  winter ;  hence  he  is  more 


RED   SQUIRREL 


A  LIFE   OF  FEAR  137 

or  less  active  all  the  season.  Long  before  the 
December  snow,  the  chipmunk  has  for  days  been 
making  hourly  trips  to  his  den  with  full  pockets 
of  nuts  or  corn  or  buckwheat,  till  his  bin  holds 
enough  to  carry  him  through  to  April.  He  need 
not,  and  I  believe  does  not,  set  foot  out  of  doors 
during  the  whole  winter.  But  the  red  squirrel 
trusts  more  to  luck. 

As  alert  and  watchful  as  the  red  squirrel  is,  he 
is  frequently  caught  by  the  cat.  My  Nig,  as 
black  as  ebony,  knows  well  the  taste  of  his  flesh. 
I  have  known  him  to  be  caught  by  the  black 
snake  and  successfully  swallowed.  The  snake, 
no  doubt,  lay  in  ambush  for  him. 

This  fear,  this  ever-present  source  of-  danger 
of  the  wild  creatures,  we  know  little  about.  Prob- 
ably the  only  person  in  the  civilized  countries 
who  is  no  better  off  than  the  animals  in  this 
respect  is  the  Czar  of  Russia.  He  would  not 
even  dare  gather  nuts  as  openly  as  my  squirrel. 
A  blacker  and  more  terrible  cat  than  Nig  would 
be  lying  in  wait  for  him  and  would  make  a 
meal  of  him.  The  early  settlers  in  this  country 
must  have  experienced  something  of  this  dread  of 
apprehension  from  the  Indians.  Many  African 
tribes  now  live  in  the  same  state  of  constant 
fear  of  the  slave-catchers  or  of  other  hostile 
tribes.     Our  ancestors,  back  in  prehistoric  times, 


138     SQUIRKELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

must  have  known  fear  as  a  constant  feeling. 
Hence  the  prominence  of  fear  in  infants  and 
children  when  compared  with  the  youth  or  the 
grown  person.  Babies  are  nearly  always  afraid 
of  strangers. 

In  the  domestic  animals  also^  fear  is  much 
more  active  in  the  young  than  in  the  old. 
Nearly  every  farm  boy  has  seen  a  calf  but  a 
day  or  two  old,  which  its  mother  has  secreted  in 
the  woods  or  in  a  remote  field,  charge  upon  him 
furiously  with  a  wild  bleat,  when  first  discovered. 
After  this  first  ebullition  of  fear,  it  usually  set- 
tles down  into  the  tame  humdrum  of  its  bovine 
elders. 

Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  life  with  most 
of  the  wild  creatures.  There  is  only  one  among 
them  whose  wildness  I  cannot  understand,  and 
that  is  the  common  water  turtle.  Why  is  this 
creature  so  fearful  ?  What  are  its  enemies  ?  I 
know  of  nothing  that  preys  upon  it.  Yet  see 
how  watchful  and  suspicious  these  turtles  are 
as  they  sun  themselves  upon  a  log  or  a  rock. 
While  you  are  yet  many  yards  away  from  them, 
they  slide  down  into  the  water  and  are  gone. 

The  land  turtle,  on  the  other  hand,  shows 
scarcely  a  trace  of  fear.  He  will  indeed  pause 
in  his  walk  when  you  are  very  near  him,  but  he 
will  not  retreat  into  his  shell  till  you  have  poked 


A  LIFE  OF  FEAR  139 

him  with  your  foot  or  your  cane.  He  appears  to 
have  no  enemies ;  but  the  Kttle  spotted  water  tur- 
tle is  as  shy  as  if  he  were  the  delicate  tidbit  that 
every  creature  was  searching  for.  I  did  once 
find  one  which  a  fox  had  dug  out  of  the  mud  in 
winter,  and  carried  a  few  rods  and  dropped  on  the 
snow,  as  if  he  had  found  he  had  no  use  for  it. 

One  can  understand  the  fearlessness  of  the 
skunk.  Nearly  every  creature  but  the  farm-dog 
yields  to  him  the  right  of  way.  All  dread  his 
terrible  weapon.  If  you  meet  one  in  your  walk 
in  the  twilight  fields,  the  chances  are  that  you 
will  turn  out  for  him,  not  he  for  you.  He  may 
even  pursue  you,  just  for  the  fun  of  seeing  you 
run.  He  comes  waltzing  toward  you,  apparently 
in  the  most  hilarious  spirits. 

The  coon  is  probably  the  most  courageous 
creature  among  our  familiar  wild  animals.  Who 
ever  saw  a  coon  show  the  white  feather  ?  He 
will  face  any  odds  with  perfect  composure.  I 
have  seen  a  coon  upon  the  ground,  beset  by  four 
men  and  two  dogs,  and  never  for  a  moment  los- 
ing his  presence  of  mind,  or  showing  a  sign  of 
fear.     The  raccoon  is  clear  grit. 

The  fox  is  a  very  wild  and  suspicious  creature, 
but  curiously  enough,  when  you  suddenly  come 
face  to  face  with  him,  when  he  is  held  by  a  trap, 
or  driven  by  the  hound,  his  expression  is  not  that 


^ 


140     SQUIREELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

of  fear,  but  of  shame  and  guilt.  He  seems  to 
diminish  in  size  and  to  be  overwhelmed  with 
humiliation.  Does  he  know  himself  to  be  an 
old  thief,  and  is  that  the  reason  of  his  embarrass- 
ment ?  The  fox  has  no  enemies  but  man,  and 
when  he  is  fairly  outwitted  he  looks  the  shame 
he  evidently  feels. 

In  the  heart  of  the  rabbit  fear  constantly 
abides.  How  her  eyes  protrude!  She  can  see 
back  and  forward  and  on  all  sides  as  well  as  a 
bird.  The  fox  is  after  her,  the  owls  are  after 
her,  the  gunners  are  after  her,  and  she  has  no 
defense  but  her  speed.  She  always  keeps  well  to 
cover.  The  northern  hare  keeps  in  the  thickest 
brush.  If  the  hare  or  rabbit  crosses  a  broad  open 
exposure  it  does  so  hurriedly,  like  a  mouse  when 
it  crosses  the  road.  The  mouse  is  in  danger  of 
being  pounced  upon  by  a  hawk,  and  the  hare  or 
rabbit  by  the  snowy  owl,  or  else  the  great  horned 
owl. 

A  friend  of  mine  was  following  one  morning 
a  fresh  rabbit  track  through  an  open  field.  Sud- 
denly the  track  came  to  an  end,  as  if  the  creature 
had  taken  wings,  —  as  it  had  after  an  unpleasant 
fashion.  There,  on  either  side  of  its  last  foot 
imprint,  were  several  parallel  lines  in  the  snow, 
made  by  the  wings  of  the  great  owl  that  had 
swooped  down  and  carried  it  off.     What  a  little 


A  LIFE   OF   FEAR  141 

tragedy  was  seen  written  there  upon  the  white, 
even  surface  of  the  field  1 

The  rabbit  has  not  much  wit.  Once,  when  a 
boy,  I  saw  one  that  had  been  recently  caught, 
liberated  in  an  open  field  in  the  presence  of  a 
dog  that  was  being  held  a  few  yards  away.  The 
poor  thing  lost  all  presence  of  mind,  and  was 
quickly  caught  by  the  clumsy  dog. 

A  hunter  once  saw  a  hare  running  upon  the 
ice  along  the  shore  of  one  of  the  Rangeley  lakes. 
Presently  a  lynx  appeared  in  hot  pursuit ;  as  soon 
as  the  hare  found  it  was  being  pursued,  it  began 
to  circle,  foolish  thing.  This  gave  the  lynx 
greatly  the  advantage,  as  it  could  follow  in  a 
much  smaller  circle.  Soon  the  hare  was  run 
down  and  seized. 

I  saw  a  similar  experiment  tried  with  a  red 
squirrel  with  quite  opposite  results.  The  boy 
who  had  caught  the  squirrel  in  his  wire  trap 
had  a  very  bright  and  nimble  dog  about  the 
size  of  a  fox,  that  seemed  to  be  very  sure  he 
could  catch  a  red  squirrel  under  any  circum- 
stances if  only  the  trees  were  out  of  the  way. 
So  the  boy  went  to  the  middle  of  an  open  field 
with  his  caged  squirrel,  the  dog,  who  seemed  to 
know  what  was  up,  dancing  and  jumping  about 
him.  It  was  in  midwinter ;  the  snow  had  a  firm 
crust  that  held  boy  and  dog  alike.    The  dog  was 


142     SQUIRRELS   AI^D   OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

drawn  back  a  few  yards  and  the  squirrel  liber- 
ated. 

Then  began  one  of  the  most  exciting  races 
I  have  witnessed  for  a  long  time.  It  was  im- 
possible for  the  lookers-on  not  to  be  convulsed 
with  laughter^  though  neither  dog  nor  squirrel 
seemed  to  regard  the  matter  as  much  of  a  joke. 
The  squirrel  had  all  his  wits  about  him,  and  kept 
them  ready  for  instant  use.  He  did  not  show 
the  slightest  confusion.  He  was  no  match  for 
the  dog  in  fair  running,  and  he  discovered  this 
fact  in  less  than  three  seconds  ;  he  must  win,  if 
at  all,  by  strategy.  Not  a  straight  course  for 
the  nearest  tree,  but  a  zigzag  course,  yea,  a 
double  or  treble  zigzag  course.  Every  instant 
the  dog  was  sure  the  squirrel  was  his,  and  every 
instant  he  was  disappointed.  It  was  incredible 
and  bewildering  to  him.  The  squirrel  dodged 
this  way  and  that.  The  dog  looked  astonished 
and  vexed.  Then  the  squirrel  issued  from  be- 
tween his  enemy's  hind  legs  and  made  three 
jumps  towards  the  woods  before  he  was  discov- 
ered. Our  sides  ached  with  laughter,  cruel  as  it 
may  seem. 

It  was  evident  the  squirrel  would  win.  The 
dog  seemed  to  redouble  his  efforts.  He  would 
overshoot  the  game,  or  shoot  by  it  to  the  right 
or  left.     The  squirrel  was  the  smaller  craft,  and 


A  LIFE  OF  FEAR  143 

could  out-tack  him  easily.  One  more  leap  and 
the  squirrel  was  up  a  tree,  and  the  dog  was  over- 
whelmed with  confusion  and  disgust.  He  could 
not  believe  his  senses.  "  Not  catch  a  squirrel  in 
such  a  field  as  that?  Go  to,  I  will  have  him 
yet ! "  and  he  bounded  up  the  tree  as  high  as 
one's  head,  and  then  bit  the  bark  of  it  in  his 
anger  and  chagrin. 

The  boy  says  his  dog  has  never  bragged  since 
about  catching  red  squirrels  "  if  only  the  trees 
were  out  of  reach  !  " 

When  any  of  the  winged  creatures  are  engaged 
in  a  life  and  death  race  in  that  way,  or  in  any 
other  race,  the  tactics  of  the  squirrel  do  not 
work ;  the  pursuer  never  overshoots  nor  shoots 
by  his  mark.  The  flight  of  the  two  is  timed  as 
if  they  were  parts  of  one  whole.  A  hawk  will 
pursue  a  sparrow  or  a  robin  through  a  zigzag 
course  and  not  lose  a  stroke  or  half  a  stroke  of 
the  wing  by  reason  of  any  darting  to  the  right 
or  left.  The  clue  is  held  with  fatal  precision. 
No  matter  how  quickly  nor  how  often  the  spar- 
row or  the  finch  changes  its  course,  its  enemy 
changes,  simultaneously,  as  if  every  move  was 
known  to  it  from  the  first. 

The  same  thing  may  be  noticed  among  the 
birds  in  their  love  chasings ;  the  pursuer  seems 
to  know  perfectly  the  mind  of  the  pursued.    This 


IM     SQUIRRELS  AND  OTHER  FUR-BEARERS 

concert  of  action  among  birds  is  very  curious. 
When  they  are  on  the  alert,  a  flock  of  sparrows, 
or  pigeons,  or  cedar-birds,  or  snow  buntings,  or 
blackbirds,  will  all  take  flight  as  if  there  were  but 
one  bird,  instead  of  a  hundred.  The  same  im- 
pulse seizes  every  individual  bird  at  the  same 
instant,  as  if  they  were  sprung  by  electricity. 

Or  when  a  flock  of  birds  is  in  flight,  it  is  still 
one  body,  one  will ;  it  will  rise,  or  circle,  or  swoop 
with  a  unity  that  is  truly  astonishing. 

A  flock  of  snow  buntings  will  perform  their 
aerial  evolutions  with  a  precision  that  the  best- 
trained  soldiery  cannot  equal.  Have  the  birds 
an  extra  sense  which  we  have  not?  A  brood  of 
young  partridges  in  the  woods  will  start  up  like 
an  explosion,  every  brown  particle  and  fragment 
hurled  into  the  air  at  the  same  instant.  With- 
out word  or  signal,  how  is  it  done  ? 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Birds,  simultaneous  action  in 
flight,  143, 144. 

Calf,  138. 

Cat,  nursing  a  young  woodcliuck, 
131, 132 ;  catching  red  sqxiirrels, 
137. 

Chipmunk,  10 ;  its  winter  under- 
ground and  reappearance  in  the 
spring,  15,  16 ;  courting,  16 ;  a 
solitary  creature,  16,  18;  ner- 
vousness of,  16,  18 ;  chipping 
and  clucking,  16,  17;  storing 
food,  17, 18,  23,  31,  137;  adven- 
tures -with  cats,  18-21 ;  digging 
its  hole,  21,  22  ;  furnishing  the 
house,  22 ;  food  of,  23,  31 ;  an 
evidence  of  sociability,  23,  24 ; 
an  adventure  with  a  weasel,  24- 
26 ;  attack  by  a  shrike,  27,  28 ; 
eating  strawberries,  29,  30;  a 
game  of  tag,  30 ;  never  more 
than  one  jump  from  home,  30 ; 
shifting  quarters,  31  ;  its  fear 
of  the  weasel,  83;  its  provi- 
dence, 136,  137. 

Coon.     See  Raccoon. 

Dog,  the  churn-dog  and  the  wood- 
chucks,   34-36;   farm-dog  and 


fox,  56,  57,  64,  65 ;  moisture  of 
his  nose,  67,  68 ;  fight  with  a 
weasel,  82,  83  ;  encounter  with 
a  mink,  91,  92 ;  farm-dog  and 
coon,  94,  95 ;  coon-dog  and 
coon,  96,  97 ;  farm-dog  and 
skunk,  139 ;  a  race  with  a  red 
squirrel,  141-143.  See  Fox- 
hound. 

Fox,  gray,  71. 

Fox,  red,  tracks  in  the  snow,  38, 
39,  53,  54,  90,  91 ;  bark  of,  53  ; 
gait  of,  54,  126 ;   the   author's 
first     meeting     with,    54,    55  ; 
chased  by  hounds,  56,  62,  64- 
68;    chased  by  the  farm-dog, 
56,  57,  64,  65  ;  tail  of,  57  ;  me- 
thod of  trapping,  58-61 ;  behav- 
ior when  trapped,  61,  139,  140 
farm-yard  depredations,  62-64 
devices  for  eluding  the  hounds 
65-68 ;  a  method  of  calling,  68 
burrows  and  young  of,  69,  70 
daylight   naps   of,   70 ;    resem- 
blance  to  the   dog,  70,  71 ;   a 
young  one   in  the  market,  70. 
71;  and  mink,  90,  91;  beauty 
and  grace  of,  126,  139  ;  humili- 
ation when  captured,  139,  140. 


148 


INDEX 


Fox,  silver-gray,  67. 

Foxhound,  baying  of,  55,  56 ;  the 

chase  of  the  fox,  56,  62,  64-68; 
moisture  of  his  nose,  67. 

Hare,  northern  or  varying,  haunts 
of,  38,  42 ;  habits  of,  41,  42 ; 
tracks  in  the  snow,  42 ;  two 
suits  of  fur,  42,  140  ;  pursuit 
and  capture  by  a  lynx,  141. 

Lynx,  141. 

Mink,  eating  a  muskrat,  47 ; 
tracks  in  the  snow,  90,  91,  93 ; 
encounter  with  a  fox,  90,  91 ;  an 
enemy  of  the  muskrat,  91 ; 
an  encounter  with  a  dog  and  a 
mysterious  disappearance,  91, 
92 ;  as  an  eater  of  fish,  92  ;  gait 
of,  93. 

Mouse,  jumping,  habits  of,  120 ;  a 
captive,  121-124. 

Mouse,  meadow,  life  beneath  the 
snow,  115,  116  ;  a  bold  swim- 
mer, 116,  117. 

Mouse,  white-footed  or  deer, 
beauty  of.  111 ;  easily  captured, 
111 ;  haunts  of.  111 ;  hoarding 
habits  of.  111,  112  ;  thwarting 
a  piratical  red  squirrel,  112, 
113;  in  the  beehive,  113,  114; 
reducing  a  shawl  to  its  original 
elements,  113,  114;  seven  in  a 
trap,  114 ;  tunnels  and  tracks 
in  the  snow,  114,  115  ;  a  female 
with  young,  117,  118;  an  at- 
tempt to  assist  a  friend  in  dis- 
tress, 118,  119. 

Muskrat,  nest-building  of,  43-47  ; 


burrows  of,  47  ;  winter  activity 
of,  47 ;  devoured  by  a  mink,  47  ; 
a  doorway  visit,  126,  127. 

Opossum,  98  ;  tracks  in  the  snow, 
106  ;  extending  its  range,  106  ; 
foot  of,  106 ;  a  captive,  106- 
108  ;  skin  said  to  be  fetid,  108 ; 
young  of,  108,  109;  under  the 
study  floor,  109,  110. 

Partridge,  125,  126. 

Porcupine,  increasing  in  abun- 
dance, 98 ;  a  fight  with  an  eagle, 
98 ;  quills  as  weapons  of  de- 
fense, 99-101 ;  on  Slide  Moun- 
tain, 101-105  ;  stupidity  of,  103 ; 
sound  made  by,  104 ;  propen- 
sity for  gnawing,  105. 

Rabbit,  gray,  haunts  of,  38  ;  under 
the  study  floor,  38;  nest  and 
young  of,  39,  40  ;  winter  fare 
of,  41,  125 ;  a  captive,  132-134; 
her  life  full  of  fear,  140 ;  a 
tragedy  revealed  by  the  snow, 
140 ;  stupidity  of,  141. 

Raccoon,  reappearance  after  hi- 
bernation, 94 ;  a  fight  with  the 
farm-dog,  94,  95  ;  fighting  qual- 
ities of,  95;  coon-hunting,  96, 
97 ;  ravages  in  the  corn-field, 
96 ;  a  captive,  127,  128  ;  cour- 
age of,  139. 

Rat,  pursued  by  a  weasel,  83,  84. 

Shrew,  119,  120. 
Shrike,  27,  28. 

Skunk,  tracks  in  the  snow,  48; 
awakening     from    hibernation, 


INDEX 


149 


48 ;  habits  of,  48-50  ;  as  a  pet, 
49 ;  its  weapon  of  defense,  50- 
52 ;  a  plunderer  of  hen-roosts 
and  birds'  nests,  50,  51 ;  an  in- 
stance of  its  fearlessness,  52, 
98  ;  under  the  study  floor,  109  ; 
at  the  doorstep,  128  ;  not  easily 
ruffled,  128 ;  fearlessness  of, 
139. 

Snake,  black,  137. 

Squirrel,  black,  8. 

Squirrel,  flying,  flight  of,  3,  5 ; 
habits  of,  5,  6  ;  nest  of,  6. 

Squirrel,  gray,  habits  of,  6-8; 
nest  of,  7 ;  hiding  nuts,  10,  13, 
126. 

Squirrel,  Mexican  black,  3,  4. 

Squirrel,  red,  a  bold  leap,  3,  4,  6; 
habits  of,  9,  10 ;  snickering  of, 
9, 13, 14  ;  food  of,  11-13  ;  hoard- 
ing habits  of,  12,  136, 137  ;  his 
song  and  dance,  13,  14,  15 ;  a 
game  of  tag,  31 ;  pursued  by  a 
weasel,  88  ;  a  piratical  raid  by, 
112,  113 ;  his  life  full  of  fear, 
135,  136 ;  frequently  caught  by 
the  eat,  137  ;  a  race  with  a  dog, 
141-143. 

Squirrels,  gathering  chestnuts,*  1, 
2  ;  as  parachutes,  2-5  ;  tails  of, 
5  ;  mirth  and  mockery  of,  10. 


Thrasher,  brown,  and  weasels,  85. 


Turkey,  fox  and,  63,  64. 
Turtles,  138,  139. 

Weasel,  in  pursuit  of  a  chipmunk, 
24-26 ;  carrying  food  to  its 
den,  72-75 ;  an  exploration  of 
a  weasel's  hole,  74-79  ;  food  of, 
77,  80,  85  ;  depredations  among 
the  chickens,  80-82 ;  a  fight 
with  a,  81-83  ;  dog  and,  82,  83  ; 
its  boldness  and  bloodthirsti- 
ness,  83,  86  ;  terror  inspired  by, 
83,  86  ;  a  fight  with  a  man  over 
a  rat,  84  ;  a  woman's  experience, 
85 ;  a  destructive  enemy  of  the 
birds,  85  ;  as  a  tree-climber,  86 ; 
hunting  in  packs,  86,  87  ;  a  con- 
tention over  a  mouse,  87 ;  can- 
nibalism, 87 ;  pursuing  two  rats, 
87,  88 ;  tracks  its  game  by 
scent,  88 ;  pursuit  of  a  red 
squirrel,  88. 

Woodchuck,  28,  29;  haunts  of, 
32 ;  adventure  with  a  swim- 
ming man,  32,  33  ;  odor  of,  33  ; 
its  whistle,  33,  130;  form  and 
motions  of,  33  ;  a  churn-dog's 
tactics,  34-36  ;  hole  of,  36  ;  hi- 
bernation of,  36,  37  ;  about  the 
house  and  study,  129  ;  a  mother 
with  her  young  one,  129,  130; 
captives,  130-132 ;  a  friendship 
with  a  kitten,  132. 


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